Winning Days
by Purrsia
Summary: A Vehicle Voltron fiction that parellels events in the series but also rewrites major aspects of it. A Drule plot and a mystery spy aboard the Explorer may destroy the Alliance yet, with an innocent people caught in the middle. JeffLisa
1. Black Metallic Part I

Title: Winning Days

Fandom: Voltron, Vehicle Team

Author: Purrsia Kat

Genre: Drama

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Adult Situations, Mild Language, Mild Violence

Start Date: September 2004

End Date: June 2006

Summary: Vehicle Voltron fiction that parellels events in the series but also rewrites major aspects of it. A Drule plot and a mystery spy aboard the Explorer may destroy the Alliance yet, with an innocent people caught in the middle. Jeff-Lisa.

Disclaimer: Voltron owned by World Events Productions (WEP). This story based on their property without permission.

Winning Days Book I: Black Metallic

_Part I_

By Purrsia Kat

Air team leader Jeff looked down at the control panel of the vessel he piloted, its lights alive with activity. "This planet looks promising, Commander," he reported to the figure in brown uniform whose image appeared in the screen at the center of the console. "All instruments reveal the air can support human life."

"Great news," came the Commander's radioed reply. "Once the other teams report, I'll relay the news to Galaxy Garrison."

"Yes sir. Over and out."

Jeff guided his conical star ship around the last outcropping of rock, which marked the end of a particularly mountainous region, with expert skill. He was then greeted by a breathtaking panorama of lush green forests stretching to the arc of the horizon. Despite the beauty and promise of the planet, experience had taught the young captain of the Voltron Force a degree of cynicism. "It's too good to be true," he muttered while checking the various gauges and sensors in his craft for any sign of the Alliance's perennial enemies, the Drule Empire. True, they hadn't clashed with the Drules in weeks but instead of taking solace in that, that fact actually had Jeff more on edge.

Jeff was distracted from his negative thoughts by the appearance of Land Team leader Cliff's image on his telecom. "Jeff, everything down here checks out okay. Plant and animal life seem compatible with human settlement. We may have found the perfect world."

Jeff forced a smile in an effort to keep his cynical comments to himself. "Sounds great, Cliff. But keep an eye out for the Drules. You never know when they're going to show up and ruin a perfect world." Ever the vocal member of the team, Jeff found he couldn't hold in his doubts for long, though Cliff seemed much less concerned.

In fact, Cliff laughed. "Honestly Jeff, we haven't encountered the Drules in weeks. You need to relax. If the Drules were around we'd have picked them up on radar by now."

"Maybe if I was as naïve as you, I could relax," Jeff shot back playfully. What worried Jeff most was the Drules' chameleon-like ability to adapt to the Alliance's technology and find ways to block or skirt their radar and other devices that would give the Alliance fair warning.

"Ha ha. Maybe if you'd relax for even one moment, you wouldn't be the person solely responsible for the depletion of the Explorer's supply of antacids."

Jeff cracked a grin at his teammate's exaggeration. "No way, we all know it's Sammy's cooking that's responsible for that."

"Fair enough. See you back at the Explorer. Over and out."

* * *

That evening, Jeff watched a brilliant sunset from behind one of the many great glass panes of their command ship, the Explorer. 

"It's beautiful," Sea Team leader Cric remarked.

Jeff simply nodded without taking his eyes off the sky, his expression giving away no surprise at the quiet appearance of his teammate by his side.

"I heard Commander Hawkins sent news of our find back to Galaxy Garrison. Once we finish thoroughly exploring the southern hemisphere tomorrow it will be a done deal…a new world for the over-populated people in the Alliance to colonize."

Jeff sighed. "That's the mission." After a brief silence, Jeff turned to look at Cric. He hesitated because part of him didn't want to confirm his worst fears. Cric, an alien whose skin was as pale a blue as the water world he hailed from, had a gift – a sixth sense – and if anyone could confirm Jeff's fears it would be him. "What's your feeling about this place, Cric? What's your gut feeling?" Jeff's gaze was unflinching as he searched his friend's face for a reaction.

Cric cast his eyes downward as he uttered two simple words. "Not good."

"Damn," Jeff cursed. "I was afraid of that."

"Something's going to happen tomorrow, so rest while you can tonight."

Jeff shook his head. "After news like that, how do you figure?"

"I confided in the Commander about this feeling," Cric explained, "and he's got us on heightened alert. It's all we can do for now with nothing but a vague premonition to go on."

"I guess," Jeff conceded with flagging confidence for he knew as anyone else on the ship that Cric's feelings weren't to be taken lightly. Jeff had a pretty good idea who would be responsible for the coming trouble, too. "I'm just so sick of the Drules coming along and taking things from us."

"You have to remember, to them we're interlopers in their corner of the universe. Maybe they think if they destroy the fruits of our labor often enough, we'll tire of it and move on. And now that we're edging into what is believed to be the galaxy of their home planet, we can only expect the attacks to be more frequent and vicious."

"Fear and ignorance is no excuse for what they do," Jeff decreed. "Besides, why does anyone need a whole galaxy? It's big enough for everyone, damn it."

"I wasn't making excuses for them –"

"Besides, we know what their game is! They're rotten imperialists!" Jeff thundered interrupting Cric, for when he got on a roll about the Drule Empire there was no room for calm, reasoned discussion. "How many of your people have they enslaved, Cric?"

Despite the rhetorical nature of the question, Cric sighed and replied, "Too many."

"That's right. They're driven by power and greed which is all the more reason we should stay right here in this star system and not give up or run away."

"Still, getting upset or angry isn't going to help matters, Jeff."

"Aw, don't you go making antacid jokes, too," Jeff replied, softening somewhat.

A wry smile crossed Cric's lips. "You should leave some for the rest of us. We have to eat Sammy's cooking too, you know."

Jeff couldn't help but chuckle, the tenseness of the moment before diffused. "Well, I'm going to turn in early. I have a feeling I'll need all the rest I can get…"

"Good idea."

As twilight fell upon the planet and the Explorer gently settled into the calm waters of a bay, Jeff made his way to his sleeping quarters. Unsurprisingly, he found sleep elusive, only coming and going in brief spurts. So as dawn broke it was no small wonder Jeff was the first to jump to his feet when the alert sounded. At least the adrenaline rush was enough to make him feel more than awake as he wriggled into his uniform top while racing down the hall at the same time.

"They didn't waste any time," Jeff remarked as he passed by Cric, who was just emerging from his own sleeping chambers.

"Nope," was all Cric had time to offer before each team rushed to reach their docking stations.

Slightly disheveled, Jeff sat in the cockpit of his ship awaiting orders, which finally came when Commander Hawkins spoke over the teams' telecom. "Unidentified objects have been picked up on radar approaching from the southern hemisphere. Teams check it out but proceed with caution…we can't rule out the possibility of a Drule attack fleet."

"Yes sir," Jeff replied, his lips set in a determined line. This wouldn't be the first time the Drules were able to mask an attack force on a planet the Alliance was exploring. Ambush attacks were their deadly specialty, after all. "Every time," Jeff muttered angrily to himself, "they do this every time."

The fifteen units of the three teams launched and covered the distance in no time. They were coming into another mountainous region, and judging by radar indications Jeff observed, the ships in question should come into view any minute. "Teams, be ready…"

Sure enough, a half dozen of the Drules' large star cruisers awaited them beyond the ridge. "It's them!" Jeff shouted, his finger hovering above the button that triggers his ship's lasers.

"Hold on, Jeff," Cric responded, his image appearing on Jeff's console. "There's so few of them. Something's not right."

"Oh yeah? Well I'm not going to wait to find out what dirty trick they're up to." With that, Jeff fired a laser that struck the lead ship squarely, resulting in a brilliant explosion as the Drule vessel went into an out-of-control nosedive. An all-out firefight began, the remaining Drule ships returning fire. That is, until Hawkins radioed with a startling revelation.

"Hold your fire!" Hawkins barked. "Those aren't Drules."

Jeff's jaw went slack. "Sir?"

"I just had a teleconference with them – the natives of this planet are in those ships, not Drules," Hawkins explained.

Jeff's mind reeled. "Natives? But – in Drule ships?" It had to be some kind of wicked Drule trick…didn't it?

Then, as Jeff flew over a valley he saw it – a sprawling city below, its dusty streets and modest white buildings contrasting clearly with the dark forest surrounding it. "Shit," he softly uttered.

"I was as shocked as you, Jeff. But when I radioed to try to reason with the Drule commander, frightened natives greeted me instead. We may be able to explain things and make amends, but you have to stop fighting," Hawkins continued.

"Easier said than done, Commander. We're under heavy fire here."

"What do you expect?" Cric interrupted, his tone unusually angry for such a normally reserved member of the team. "You fired on them without provocation."

Jeff felt his face glow hot with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. "They're in Drule ships! How was I supposed to know there wasn't Drules in them?"

Time for righteous indignation was cut short when a robeast emerged from one of the Drule ships. And on top of it, more Drule ships were launching from the city below.

"They may not be Drules, but they fight like them," Cliff remarked.

"We've got no choice, Commander. We've gotta form Voltron," Jeff reported.

* * *

In the city below, hysterical citizens scrambled for shelter as fiery shrapnel rained down on them. But one young woman stared up at the sky, so in disbelief she was able to move only to sweep her wind-swept hair from her line of vision. She watched the group of alien ships that had attacked her people combine into a giant with human-like characteristics. She was almost hypnotized by the way the early morning sun cast shadows on the behemoth that made a large area of its metallic skin appear black in hue. It was then Keira couldn't get out of her mind the cryptic prediction by one of the town's council members years ago. She'd been too young to attend the meeting, but she clearly remembered listening in on her parents' hushed discussion on what the seer had revealed then – their world's days were numbered and a giant with skin of black metallic would seal its fate. 

"Black metallic," she uttered in shocked wonder.

The accuracy of foretold events was unfolding so vividly, Keira's mind reeled with all the events that lead to it. So, those strange blue-skinned aliens who had come to her people over a year ago were right as well. There would be alien invaders who would descend upon them one day – war-mongering imperialists, they warned, that wanted nothing but to take over planets or else destroy them. They claimed to be struggling against this bane of the galaxy for years and, out of shear concern for their planetary neighbors, saw fit to give warning. Coupled with their own seer's prior prediction, the council not only took heed but also accepted these people, who called themselves Drules. They helped them prepare for this day in the form of donating technology and training so that they could at least stand a chance in case the Drules themselves could not arrive in time to lend aid.

Keira hoped it was enough or the seer's words would become unfortunate reality. Keira was just glad the old psychic was no longer around to see the horrific prediction come true. She didn't want to believe their lives were about to be shattered but here it was upon them, their day of reckoning. Keira was numb with disbelief.

"Keira, come on! Take cover!"

An urgent tug on her arm brought her somewhat out of the trance. "Huh?" Keira gazed dumbfounded into the wide eyes of a woman she recognized the local innkeeper and friend of her parents. It was then that a distant thought in her head reminded her that she had no idea where her parents were or if she'd ever see them again. She'd left them at home on their farm when set out for town earlier, hoping to beat the crowds to the market. However, she was too overwhelmed to panic over it.

"Come on!"

Keira felt like everything was happening in slow motion as her gaze slowly moved away from the terrified inn keep's face and out beyond the woman at a group of rioters who were in the process of looting the shops across the street. Most of the rioters were women because the majority of the men were in those strange Drule ships trying to fight off an even stranger enemy. This made the sight seem all the more surreal to Keira. Utter chaos swirled around them and yet, Keira remained rooted to that spot in the street.

"I'm coming," Keira murmured. However, in her state of shock she didn't even notice she was talking to herself for the inn keep had already abandoned her.

"The end…" she finally said in a distant monotone. "This is the end."

* * *

Meanwhile, safely tucked behind one of the planet's moons, was a true Drule attack fleet. Nerok sat in the command ship with a satisfied sneer on his face, watching on the ship's various monitors as the situation ignited into an ugly battle far below. Things couldn't be unfolding more perfectly if he'd wanted them to. He'd let the Explorer drift in relative peace in recent days just hoping they would happen upon the sparsely populated planet Rilo. When they did, the year's worth of resources used on the natives was paying off in spades. It was so easy to play on the fears and ridiculous superstition of the simple people of Rilo so that they would believe the Alliance was the enemy. What's more, Nerok couldn't believe it was the Alliance who had the itchy trigger finger – which worked out more to his advantage than he ever dreamed. 

Now, with the Rilons dying and fighting for the Drules, Nerok was confident that one way or another the Alliance's winning days would soon be over. And when the Alliance and the natives got done destroying each other, he'd simply swoop down and claim the planet for the Drule Empire without losing a single Drule soldier! But if something were to go awry – and experience had taught Nerok that the Alliance had a seemingly unbelievable amount of fortune on their side – he had ways to ensure there would be no chance of the Voltron Force emerging from this skirmish looking the least bit favorable or righteous.

_TO BE CONTINUED…_


	2. Black Metallic Part II

  
Winning Days Book I: Black Metallic Part II

By Purrsia Kat

The robeast and Voltron hovered high above the city, ready to face off.

"Hold it, Jeff," came Hawkins' warning from the bridge of the Explorer. "We still may be able to talk our way out of this. I don't want a single shot fired until _I_ give the order, understand?"

"Yes, sir," Jeff responded, sweat dotting his brow beneath his helmet. His eyes never left the robeast. They may not be able to counter attack but there was no order against evasive action and Jeff wanted to be ready for anything.

Hawkins surveyed the grim scene. A dull ache was already starting to creep into his temples, which was a sure sign of the stress headaches the Commander often was plagued with. It was little surprise - this situation was about as stressful as it got.

Once again, he had Sparks make contact with the natives. "This is Commander Hawkins of the Galaxy Alliance," he said to the nervous looking fellow who appeared on the Explorer's monitor. "We don't wish to fight. There's been a terrible misunderstanding. If you can agree to a cease fire I'm sure we can work this out."

The man scowled. "They warned us you'd try something like this..."

Hawkins sighed, having little doubt that the "they" he referred to were the Drules. It would certainly explain a lot. Like why these people, who had the appearance of simple farmers, were even in Drule ships. The Drules must have armed them and trained them to do their dirty work, hoping that when the Alliance discovered this planet someone on the Alliance side would jump the gun just as Jeff had. With the native's head now full of Drule propaganda and Jeff's rash attack reinforcing it, Hawkins had his work cut out for him. One thing he had to his advantage was the fact that he wasn't dealing with hardened soldiers. So it was likely they lacked true blood lust and didn't really want to fight.

"If you retreat now and never return to Rilo," the man offered, his voice shaking despite efforts to sound stern, "we won't fire on you."

Hawkins didn't like the idea of leaving without compensating the people for their losses or leaving them with the impression that the Galaxy Alliance are invaders of any kind, but for now, getting out without further conflict was more important.

"Fair enough."

* * *

Nerok's eyes narrowed as he watched the action crawl to a standstill on the planet below via his own ship's monitoring system. "What's going on?" he barked at the soldier sitting behind the communications console.

"Nerok, sir, our spy on the Explorer has reported that Commander Hawkins has negotiated a peaceful exit. The Rilons have agreed to hold their fire while the Alliance escapes," replied the Drule soldier.

"I don't think so." Nerok's lips split into a sinister grin. Unlike conflicts he'd had with the Alliance in the past, this time Nerok had several back-up plans ready to go. If all else failed, he didn't want them leaving with any hope of having their peaceful reputation intact. "I stowed away a few Purple Raiders with our men in them on Rilo for just such an occasion. There will be no ceasefire. Order them to attack!" Nerok chuckled with satisfaction, knowing if this didn't do the trick, he had one more ace up his sleeve.

* * *

As calm settled in the sky above, a strange feeling came over Keira. Not because of the hope for peaceful resolution. No, if the trusted seer was right about this much, it was surely the end. Rather, it was about going out making the most of your last moments, she decided and so found herself dashing across the street to join the looters. She felt almost joyful as she skipped over debris to partake in the frenzy.

Her eye caught the store that housed the fine linens and jewels, and she pushed past the broken door to the inside. It had clearly already been ransacked, and so Keira had the place to herself. There was just enough light to see, and Keira rifled through the racks of fine gowns as well as what was left of the jewelry.

Once she'd found something to her liking, she shucked her old scratchy woolen dress that was such a drab gray right there in the middle of the sales floor to don a flowing white gown. It reminded her of something a high council member might wear. After putting on a sparkling necklace and matching bracelets, Keira approached a long mirror to see how she looked.

The sleeveless dress hung a little loose on her slender frame – especially at her shoulders – for it was made for an older lady, not a young woman just coming out of her teens. She did realize, however, why the upper crust of Rilon society preferred bright white fabrics as she studied her frame. The color of the garment truly accented the olive complexion, dark hair and eyes that are the norm for her people. She never would have believed it before, but lovely linen really did seem to transform her. She twirled before the mirror with delight, taking in her new look from every angle. Her parents made a modest living and so this was the most luxurious item of clothing ever to settle on Keira's skin. The gauzy layers of the skirt flowed upward and then gracefully hugged her legs as she twirled. She felt like a princess!

"If this is the end, I might as well go out in style," she whispered. The statement was followed by a totally inappropriate but uncontrollable bout of giggling.

The carefree moment evaporated when a flaming piece of wreckage slammed into the street, not too far from where she'd been standing moments earlier. Keira whirled around, the delight of the swirling fabric lost to her as a shock of fear brought Keira back to hard reality. She suddenly had serious doubts whether she could face the end of her world as stoically as she'd intended for true panic gripped her.

* * *

Jeff eyed the robeast warily, but wasn't about to disobey orders. If a ceasefire and a retreat were what the Commander ordered then that's what he'd get.

Voltron turned, with the intention to head back to the Explorer. However, he didn't get far before laser fire tore at the back of him.

"What the hell? They're shooting us!" Jeff cried while struggling along with his comrades to gain control of Voltron.

Struggle for control was in vain, for Voltron plummeted headlong toward the city below while a swarm of the Drule's deadly purple raider fighters dashed past. In the confusion, a Drule vessel manned by Rilons was also hit which only served to spark all out war between them and the Alliance. The chance to leave without incident was seemingly lost.

Jeff braced himself for impact. "Hold on team! This is gonna hurt," he managed to say just before Voltron performed a sprawling crash landing. The robot took out countless city blocks with him as he slid on his belly to a halt. One of his mighty hands swiped the storefront of a linen store, unwittingly trapping one well-dressed native inside when the building partially collapsed.

Of course, nobody on the Voltron Force was aware of this or anything else going on around them. Voltron laid motionless, dust and debris settling all around him.

"Jeff, get out of there!" Hawkins shouted, only to be greeted by dead air as a response. "Damn," he cursed softly, while watching the purple raiders regroup for another attack on the helpless Voltron, all the while the Explorer itself was being rocked by blasts fired by the Rilons.

"What do you want us to do, Commander?" asked a nervous Sparks.

"They broke their word," Hawkins replied evenly, unaware that the sleek Purple Raiders responsible for the initial attack were actually piloted by Drules. "Open fire."

The fighting was fierce, blighting the early morning sky with a smoky haze that glowed with the fires of death and destruction. Though the counterattack by the Explorer and her fleet was enough to keep the Rilons and the Purple Raiders occupied, the robeast moved in to take advantage of Voltron's immobile state.

Inside the downed robot, Jeff slowly came back to his senses. The crash had knocked him out cold and it took him a moment to focus. The first sight that greeted him was that of the robeast on his ship's telecom with an instrument of impalement ready to strike.

"Team, we gotta move!" he croaked, pulling back hard on the two yokes that controlled Voltron's upward movements. Jeff couldn't move Voltron by himself, however, and so the damaged robot simply lurched slightly upward only to fall flat once more. He was aware of something warm running down his face that was more than mere perspiration, and what's worse was it started to obscure his vision.

He blinked, the robeast closing the distance to his horror. "Cliff, Cric, wake up – ya gotta help me out here before we become a robeast shish kabob."

A groan came over Jeff's intercom that sounded as if it came from Cliff and gave Jeff a spark of hope. "Cliff, come on buddy, we gotta move."

"Jeff?" came Cliff's reply, and to Jeff's dismay he sounded rather disoriented.

"I'm here too, Jeff."

Jeff bolted up right in his seat; ignoring the pain such sudden movement caused his battered body. "Cric! Pull up, pull up!"

The robeast was practically on top of them, bringing its weapon down in a sweeping arc. The Team leaders managed to take their controls. With just the three of them, Voltron's upward thrust was clumsy and awkward at best. But luckily, he moved up and aside just enough to avoid the brunt of the robeast's attack. Only the mid-section of his torso was grazed.

The weight of the robeast brought Voltron slamming back to the ground. Jeff knew that if the others didn't come to, this was only a temporary reprieve. The jarring of the impact must have done the trick though, much to Jeff's relief, more of the team came back online.

Ginger was among the first to report. "Jeff, I'm getting some preliminary data back. We're pretty banged up but most of our weapons and energy stores should still be good enough to fight off this robeast. My ship is probably damaged the worst."

It made sense to Jeff – her red jet, attached to Voltron's chest, would have taken the brunt of the damage as Voltron slid to a stop after his graceless fall. "Thanks Ginger. Team, you know what we have to do." And the first thing was to get out from under the robeast, which had Voltron pinned in a prone position on the ground.

The feat was impossible until a unit from the Explorer's fleet broke away long enough to risk blasting the robeast off Voltron's back. Their rescuers paid a heavy price, however, as out of battle formation it was easy for the enemy to pick it off.

Jeff had neither the time nor the luxury to mourn his fellow soldiers. Instead, he used the moment along with the rest of the Voltron Force to get upright and in a battle position. His next concern was getting away from the populated area. Ordering the team to use the ray beam whip, Voltron was able to grab the floundering robeast and fling the mechanical menace out and away. Voltron pursued it.

"Form blazing sword," Jeff growled, his only focus on destroying the robeast and ending this battle definitively.

* * *

Nerok crossed his arms across his chest, glaring at the oversized monitor looming before him. The tide in the battle on Rilo was changing. No matter. He had a last ditch effort that would ensure the Alliance wouldn't come away smelling like roses.

Long before the Alliance ever showed up – though he'd always banked on the fact that they would – Nerok had his men drill into the ground in remote areas of the sparsely populated planet to plant Lazon bombs he could detonate at any moment. It was easy, what with the people of Rilo so primitive they had no clue, nor would they question their "allies" anyway. And it was done for just this reason – if the Drules couldn't take the planet nobody will, least of all the damned Galaxy Alliance. But the best part was, blame for its destruction would fall solely on the shoulders of the Alliance, proving to the fools who ally themselves with the Garrison what Nerok and the rest of the high Drule command always knew – the Voltron Force were imperialistic interlopers.

"Sir?" a nearby underling asked, as it was clear he'd been waiting some time for orders.

"Detonate the Lazon bombs and let's get out of here. With any luck, they'll die with the planet and if not...they'll suddenly find it harder to make any friends in the galaxy after they take the blame," Nerok decreed.

* * *

Jeff felt a rush of satisfaction as the robeast exploded into fiery oblivion before him. The feeling was fleeting, however, for Ginger's ship disconnected from Voltron without warning. Their union broken, the rest of Voltron split into the individual specialized ships that comprised the robot. Jeff maneuvered to stick close to Ginger whose ship was clearly out of control. The red fighter plane sank toward the earth, leaving a trail of swirling black smoke behind it.

"Talk to me, Ginger, what's going on?" Jeff called via his radio. His frown deepened when no reply came. Switching channels, he brought up Cliff. "I'm going to stick with Ginger. You guys try to keep everyone off our backs."

"Will do."

The only comfort was her ship seemed to be leveling out somewhat and it looked to him like Ginger was attempting an emergency landing back at the city – the streets Voltron had cleared earlier would serve as a fairly decent landing strip, albeit a bumpy one. But Jeff knew if anyone could pull off such a feat, it would be Ginger. As far as pure flying skill, Ginger was probably the best out of the lot of them.

Jeff's confidence in Ginger's piloting ability was forgotten when a series of explosions lit up the horizon. At first, he wasn't sure if it was some kind of distant volcanic activity responsible for the events. But when the tell tale mushroom shaped clouds drifted up through the atmosphere, he knew it had to be the work of men not nature – more specifically the Drules as it didn't make sense that the natives would bomb their own world. With Ginger out of commission and having to land below, that was enough of a problem...and now this! Jeff groaned audibly.

He guided his ship down behind Ginger's all the while more explosions ripped the planet – some of which were too close as far as Jeff was concerned. Ginger's ship came to rest in the street after a rather turbulent landing. Jeff leapt out of his ship into the rubble-strewn, deserted street and rushed over to Ginger's ship. He arrived just as the canopy of her red fighter plane slid back.

"Are you okay?" Jeff asked, his voice filled with concern yet muted thanks to his helmet.

Ginger gave a quick nod. "I can't say the same for my ship."

Jeff climbed inside the cockpit just as another explosion rocked them. It was so intense, a nearby building, which was already half-destroyed from the earlier fight, shifted and threatened to bury them. It was then that something caught Ginger's eye.

"Look!" she shouted, pointing out toward the unstable building. "Somebody's up there."

Jeff glanced up from the control panel he'd been trying to glean information from. Sure enough, a figure lay face down on the last third of the roof that was left on the structure. Before they could decide what to do, Hawkins radioed via Jeff's portable communicator.

"Bad news, Jeff. The explosive activity on the planet has caused a catastrophic chain reaction. Professor Page warns that the situation is unsafe and unpredictable – we've got to evacuate before the planet becomes an inhospitable ball of fire."

"Ginger and I are in the city. Her ship is grounded, sir," Jeff replied.

"No time for that. You'll have to tow it." After a pause, Hawkins continued. "Are there any natives down there in the city?"

Jeff looked around and realized that Ginger had left the ship and was approaching the only person they had seen so far. "Just one person in sight, but it looks like they're injured. Ginger's checking on it."

The air was starting to become thick with smoke and ash, but Jeff thought he could make out Drule ships at the other end of the city descending as if to land. He reported the information to Hawkins.

"Maybe they're evacuating," Hawkins theorized. "We've still got some fighters up here but when the explosions started many of the ships fell back."

Something strange was happening and Jeff didn't like it. The entire situation reeked of Drule treachery. "I hope so. We'll make a sweep of the city on our way back just to be sure."

Luckily, Ginger was making her way down the collapsed rubble of the building with the native in her arms. As they neared, Jeff could see why Ginger had a relatively easy time carrying her human cargo – compared to ginger, the native girl was quite petite. He almost thought the victim might even be an older child until they got close enough to see she was indeed a young woman.

Jeff leapt down onto the wing of the plane to help gather the injured girl into the safety of the ship. The girl groaned and her eyes fluttered open intermittently, but for any practical sense of things, she wasn't aware.

No sooner had Jeff filled Ginger in on Hawkins' orders than another explosion – this one much closer than any before it – shook them. The remainder of the building the girl had been rescued from slid into the street causing chunks of stone to pelt and batter Ginger's already damaged ship.

"I'm going to fly above you and attach a grappling hook and line – I'll tow you," he shouted to Ginger before leaping down into the rubble to get to his own ship.

As Ginger sat in her seat waiting to be hoisted into the air, she glanced down at the girl on the floor. "We'll get out of here," she assured her, although she may have done so more to reassure herself than her semi-conscious companion.

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	3. Black Metallic Part III

**Winning Days**

_Book I: Black Metallic_

_Part III_

By Purrsia Kat

Jeff sat in the medical lab, too deep in thought to flinch as Professor Page's assistant, Debbie, stitched his scalp wound.

They made it, but there was no way to tell how many Rilons could say the same. Everything had happened so fast; it was hard to believe they were safe on the Explorer, speeding away from Rilo, which, according to Professor Page, was fast becoming a raging ball of flame, smoke, ash and gas. Sadly, they only came away with the one native girl. While it had appeared as he'd flown past that the ships he'd spotted landing on the south side of the city were indeed evacuating survivors, they wouldn't let any Alliance ships near to assist. Not that he could blame them - Jeff only hoped they made it off the planet in time. Still, what a shame it was for a people to lose such a beautiful world.

"You've had a serious enough concussion to render you unconscious, so we're going to want to monitor you closely for a couple of days," Debbie remarked casually as she worked.

"Huh?"

"Should be nothing to worry about," she assured him. "Standard procedure."

Truth be told, Jeff cared a lot less about his own head at the moment. It paled in comparison to what had just happened. Of all the rotten things the Drules had done, using an innocent people to further their evil cause topped it all. He didn't know how, but Jeff was determined to find out who masterminded the scheme and –

"Jeff, Commander Hawkins wants to see you in the captain's quarters when you're through - alone." Cliff's popping into the lab to make that announcement snapped Jeff out of his dark thoughts – and spun him into darker ones.

"Aw, great," he muttered under his breath. Debbie finished her task at that moment, and Jeff found himself wishing it had taken longer – anything to put off the Commander confronting him.

But Jeff knew being captain of the Voltron Force carried extra responsibility, and when things went wrong, he'd have to face the reprimand like a man. With that sobering thought, he muttered what passed as a thank you to Debbie and made his way to Hawkins' quarters.

When he arrived, Hawkins was seated at his desk with his hands under his chin with the fingers interlaced and his eyes closed. The small office was unlit, save for the glow Rilo gave off through the window as the planet entered its death throes.

Hawkins didn't look up at Jeff for a long moment, although he must have known of Jeff's presence. The silence made Jeff uneasy. What's worse was he had time to study the papers laid out in front of Hawkins and he knew by the telltale letterhead what they were – forms the Alliance used to notify loved ones back home that they'd lost someone dear to them in battle. He knew the form well for it once arrived at his home to inform his mother that his older brother – and only sibling – had become yet another casualty in the Alliance's long struggle with the Drule Empire. That was also the day, despite his mother's pleading, that he became determined to join the Alliance himself. Though she had been relieved when Jeff was assigned to the exploring expedition on the Explorer, the technical description he had as a space explorer hadn't saved him from deadly clashes with the Drules. Of course, he never let on in letters he wrote home exactly how bad it was but for all the trouble the Drules cause, the Explorer crew might as well be strictly an elite fighting force.

Hawkins remained silent and Jeff shifted his weight nervously. He considered taking a seat, but didn't dare push his luck. His eyes fell upon an open bottle of aspirin on Hawkins' desk. Jeff had a brief glimmer of hope that the long silence wasn't so much due to anger on Hawkins' part but maybe more a result of the headache that likely ailed him. Jeff also knew Hawkins took the death of any Alliance soldier in his fleet personally. Rather than simply calling in the names of those lost in the battle and letting Galaxy Garrison send an impersonal generic form letter, Hawkins always took blank forms and wrote out personal letters to each family and then sent them out himself. They were his men, and his responsibility in life and in death, as he had once told Jeff. And they'd lost quite a few men in the last battle. It wouldn't surprise Jeff if the Commander had a hell of a headache under the circumstances.

Hawkins had been so still and quiet for so long, that when he finally moved to bring his clasped hands down on the desk, Jeff startled before quickly changing to the stiff posture of a soldier at attention.

"Jeff?"

"Yes sir?"

"What the hell happened down there?"

Though Jeff didn't meet his gaze, he could sense Hawkins' glare on him all the same. He swallowed hard past the lump forming in his throat as if it might buy his mind time to race for an answer that wasn't utterly inexcusable.

"Well?" Hawkins rose to his feet as he spoke and rounded the corner of the desk so the he was standing at Jeff's side. Still at attention, Jeff stared straight ahead. The only silver lining was Hawkins had positioned himself so that the ugly death of Rilo was now hidden from his peripheral vision. "I asked you a question," he pressed, so close that his hot breath rustled Jeff's shaggy, dark hair.

"I'm sorry, sir, we just thought-"

"We?" Hawkins interrupted.

"I-I thought they were the Drules, sir."

To Jeff's relief, Hawkins stepped back and made his way to the window to stare at the catastrophe it framed. "So we learned a valuable lesson today, didn't we? Things aren't always what they seem."

Jeff cleared his throat. "Right, sir."

"But what an expensive lesson that was to teach."

Silence fell in the room, and Jeff became keenly aware of his palms, which had become acutely sweaty. He'd never seen the Commander this upset and he tried to push the idea of court martial out of his mind. He knew it would be well within the Commander's right to recommend it, but he'd hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"You are hereby relieved of your duties as captain of the Voltron Force."

The Commander's words came fast and stern, and they left Jeff feeling like he'd been punched in the gut. Any other day, he might be so bold as to try to reason with the Commander but all he could do was stand there, his face glowing hot with the sting of shame and embarrassment.

"You'll still have your air team unit but the task of leading the Voltron Force as a whole will now fall to Cric," Hawkins continued.

A feeble 'yes sir' was all Jeff could manage to choke out.

"You're dismissed," Hawkins added curtly, without glancing in Jeff's direction.

With that, Jeff turned on his heel and left the captain's quarters. He strode down the hall taking large, brooding steps with his eyes downcast. He was vaguely aware of a few passing teammates trying to get his attention, but he walked briskly past as he was feeling far too many emotions to satisfy their curiosities – they'd all know soon enough, anyway. All he wanted to do was get to his quarters and be alone but it seemed like the longest walk of his life.

Jeff cringed when Ginger got in his path. He gritted his teeth, refusing to look her in the eye.

"Jeff, what's wrong?" Her tone was gentle and sincere, but Jeff had no patience for pity at the moment.

He shoved past her, perhaps a little too hard. "Just leave me alone, would ya?" he growled before stalking off down the hall, leaving Ginger staring after him in disbelief.

* * *

Keira squinted as her eyes fought to focus against the bright lights. She groaned, shifting in the bed to try to find something familiar, some thing that would clue her in on where she was and what had happened. Slowly, her mind recalled pieces of events that happened after part of the textile store came crashing down around her. First there was darkness and choking dust...then, a light coming from above. She climbed and clawed her way to the light until she burst into the open air above, dragging herself onto the roof. That's where she collapsed, tired and weak. She recalled seeing a stranger in a white helmet, then briefly another stranger clad in much the same way. She'd tried to speak, but it was no good for she kept fading in and out of consciousness. Her memory of being in some sort of transport was perhaps the fuzziest of all things that had happened to her since that morning. And now she was here...wherever that was.

Her eyes finally used to the light, Keira saw nothing comforting, nothing familiar. The walls around her were all a metallic, sleek grey – nothing like the whitewashed stone of home. Her pulse quickened. Had she been kidnapped? As she sat up, she discovered that the beautiful flowing gown she'd adopted was gone – as were the jewels – and replaced by some kind of generic looking two piece cotton suit. Keira gulped. Who knew what they'd done to her while she was out.

Kicking the coverlets back, Keira decided she had to try to get out of there. However, her sore muscles and joints had protests of their own which made Keira whimper audibly. To her chagrin, the white curtain that had been obscuring the bed from the rest of the sick bay came flying back with Debbie standing on the other side of it. Keira froze, her eyes wide and fearful.

"It's okay." Debbie's words were tentative and soft. "We won't hurt you."

As soon as she moved toward her, Keira stumbled off the bed, and despite the discomfort, hobbled toward what looked to be a door. She studied the door in confusion, unable to figure out how one passed through it until its metal panels slid apart on their own, granting her an escape route. The unexpected motion startled Keira and she hesitated. Though Keira wasn't the picture of swiftness, Debbie didn't pursue her. Yes, it seemed odd to Keira that her captures would not stop her from escaping but when she stepped out into the hall, she understood why. Lining the opposite side of the hall was a row of impressive windows, which afforded her a view of the vast cosmos – not to mention what looked like a brilliant ball of fire.

The realization slowly dawned on Keira that she was not only trapped on this alien spacecraft, but that ball of fire was once her world. They'd destroyed it, just like the seer predicted! She crossed the hall slowly until she stood before one of the great panes and pressed her hands against the cool glass. Tears streamed down her face and she sorely wished she were still on Rilo, dying with it. The fate she was dealt was certainly worse than death, of that she felt sure.

She had no idea how long she'd been standing there mourning her world and her people, but eventually a soft-spoken woman got her attention.

"I'm so sorry." Lisa spoke as if responsibility for the entire incident was resting on her shoulders, her own dark eyes glistening with tears. "We're sure some of your people escaped and we'll do everything we can to reunite you with them."

"Maybe she can't understand you," Marvin offered from where he loitered nearby.

Keira's eyes darted about. She was disquieted to find several Voltron Force members lingering in the halls. The urge to flee once again overwhelmed her.

"Stay away," she croaked haltingly before setting off in search of somewhere to go to escape the scrutiny of all these strangers.

"Guess she can understand you after all," Marvin remarked with an apologetic shrug.

Hutch rolled his eyes. "Any moron knows human-based civilizations on other planets are made up of people who migrated from Earth in the 2100s. I'm not surprised she understands our language."

The debate was lost on Keira as she tried to flee the company of the strangers. She was too overwhelmed to take solace in Lisa's calm reassurance, too shocked to do anything but want to get away. But go where? Her world was gone, too ruined by war and bombs for it ever to be livable again. Her people, if any survived, flung to the four winds. Keira moved along the passageway until she found a slight recess in the wall. It was there she hid herself, sitting on the cold metal floor and drawing her knees to her chest.

* * *

Cric entered the mess hall where some of his teammates had already gathered. The mood in the room was somber. He'd just returned from meeting with Hawkins and was rather disturbed by Jeff's demotion. Because of that, he wasn't surprised when he didn't spot Jeff among his colleagues.

He approached in time to overhear Ginger speak of Jeff's odd behavior in the hall earlier. Of course, Cric now knew the cause of the outburst, but he wasn't about to break the news to them yet. Instead, Cric decided to speak about something else that had been troubling him.

"The whole conflict was strange," he began, his eyes growing distant as his mind drifted back to the confrontation and the horrible battle.

"It was a Drule trick, simple as that," Cliff stated, with Ginger nodding in agreement.

Cric paused before continuing. "I think it goes deeper than you're thinking, Cliff. I don't think the Drules simply wanted some simple people to do their fighting for them. They wouldn't have bothered just to save a few of their own soldiers – not with the time it would take to train those people."

"What are you saying?" Ginger wondered.

"Think about it. There was no reason for that planet to self-destruct like that. We would have detected seismic activity in our initial exploration if that were the case. Those explosions at the end were bombs – I'm sure when the data from our ships is analyzed it will confirm it. Not only that, but at the end of the fight, there was more Drule ships in the sky than there should have been. That city was the only populated area we saw and I just can't see that there would be enough people living in it to man that many ships." He stopped and gauged his friends for their reactions, letting them put the pieces together on their own.

"So...they're hoping we take the blame for it all, is that it?" Cliff proposed.

Cric nodded. "I believe so. After all, it's always been their position that we're the aggressors, not them. What better way to prove it?"

"Surely no one will believe them over us!"

Cric was unmoved by Cliff's protest. "That's the beauty of it – it's not the Drules people are going to have to believe. Not with a frightened people scattered about out there telling their story to anyone who will listen about how the Drules helped them try to save their world from _us_." Cric sighed. "Our long-time allies will stand by us, I'm sure. The bad part is we're a long way from most of them. We're in the Drule's corner of the universe where we need all the friends we can get."

Ginger still looked skeptical. "Wouldn't the worlds in this part of the galaxy know all about the cruelty of the Drule Empire?"

Cric shook his head. "Not necessarily. Those they enslave are too oppressed to spread warning and there are so many worlds in any given galaxy it's entirely possible for there to be areas where neither the Drules' nor the Alliance's reputations are well known."

Ginger's brow creased with worry. "And we played right into it. Poor Jeff..." she added. "He must be taking it hardest of all."

"More than you know," Cric replied with regret. He decided he couldn't put off the troubling news any longer. "The Commander wanted me to tell you that- that I'm now captain of the Voltron Force."

Cliff and Ginger shared a shocked gasp.

"What?" Cliff demanded, loudly enough to attract other team members in the area. Sammy, the staff cook who was wiping down the counters even glanced up.

Cric cleared his throat, his unease apparent. "Yes, Jeff was demoted from his position as captain of all the teams. Though he will remain in command of the air team," he hastily amended.

Ginger brought a hand up to her crimson lips and shook her head in disbelief. "Poor Jeff," she repeated.

For Cliff's part, he was over the shock and had moved on to anger. "I don't agree with Jeff jumping the gun but this is a little bit harsh don't you think? I'm going to talk to the Commander!"

Cric quickly stepped in his way. "I wouldn't recommend it." With the mood Hawkins was in, Cric would be afraid to ask him what he wanted for dinner much less question his orders at this point. Cliff would be wise to avoid him.

The team leaders stared one another down until Cliff relaxed. "Fine. But this isn't going to be permanent. Eh, no offense," he offered hastily to Cric.

Cric held up a hand and shook his head to show none was taken. "I understand. I don't like it either. But right now, things are what they are."

With that, Cric looked out at Rilo, the fiery sphere getting smaller and smaller. He wished he could offer his teammates some words of comfort but the truth was, Cric had a gut feeling the worst of their worries was yet to come.

* * *

_I've never seen you when you're smiling  
It really gets under my skin  
You say it's easy when it's faster  
I still can't guess what you're after  
  
It's the colour of your skin  
Your skin is black metallic  
It's the colour of your skin  
Your skin is black metallic  
  
I think of you when you're sleeping  
Of all the secrets that you're keeping  
You can't stay all day under the covers  
'Cause under there you'll discover  
  
It's the colour of your skin  
Your skin is black metallic  
-- Black Metallic, Catherine Wheel_


	4. Born of Frustration Part I

Winning Days

_Book II: Born of Frustration _

Part I

By Purrsia Kat

Ginger's finger traced the top of her glass as she stared into its liquid contents absently before letting out a sigh. The mess hall was buzzing with its usual lunchtime activities, but her and the other girls sat in a secluded booth under the veil of a somber mood. The fallout from the clash on Rilo still effected them, but it became apparent that something else was also on Ginger's mind.

"I'm worried about Jeff," Ginger confessed, fixing her blue eyes on Lisa and Cinda, who sat across from her. She had often thought the Commander was too hard on them sometimes, and Jeff especially, given he was so young yet given so much responsibility for a man not quite out of his teens. Of course, she would never second-guess Commander Hawkins openly and kept those thoughts to herself. Besides, she had to agree with what Hawkins would likely say – that when innocent lives are at stake you couldn't afford to make emotional or hasty decisions.

Lisa, typically lost in thought as she stared out into the vast cosmos that stretched out beyond the window, snapped from her reverie to regard her friend with equal worry. "I don't know of a man who takes a demotion well." She punctuated the statement with a weak smile but it wasn't fooling anyone.

Cinda's visage turned thoughtful. "It's only been a few weeks. Maybe he needs more time…"

"He's just been so withdrawn," Ginger pressed. "I've never seen him like this before and it really bothers me." The hint of a knowing smile tugged at Cinda's lips and it didn't escape Ginger's attention. The wrinkle in Ginger's brow deepened. Was it that obvious to the other girls that Ginger carried a torch for the moody leader of her team? Ginger felt the heat of a blush begin to rise up into her fair cheeks – she really hadn't meant to come across as so desperately obvious. Then again, Cinda was more intuitive than most just by her very alien nature. At least Ginger chose to cling to that thought to stave off her embarrassment.

Not that it would be that horrible if the girls knew, but if word got out certain members of the team would never let it rest; not to mention what Jeff himself might make of it. So in that regard, Ginger wished to keep any longings she may have to herself especially given she couldn't act on them if she wanted to. After all, the Alliance brass would frown upon a liaison between a ranking officer like Jeff and someone like herself as fraternization and Jeff certainly didn't need any more trouble. And most of all, the fear of rejection coupled with damage to their friendship is perhaps what Ginger feared the most in that regard.

"Are you all right, Ginger," Lisa asked gently. "You got awfully quiet…"

This time Ginger's cheeks flushed a deep red. "I was just thinking, you know," she stammered. "M-maybe we can do something nice to cheer Jeff up."

"He doesn't need cheering up."

The girls turned to see Hutch standing by their table, his arms folded across his chest defensively. "What he needs," continued the outspoken Land Team member, "is to admit he really screwed up and to take his demotion like a man."

Ginger gasped not only from the harshness of Hutch's words but also because at that moment, Jeff lumbered past within earshot of the conversation.

"Oh and I suppose you could do better?" Lisa asked, regarding Hutch with a scowl of indignation.

Ginger, lowering her voice, urged, "Shhhh! He's right there, he'll hear us."

"Let him hear," Hutch announced. Ginger glared at Hutch, positive that he was actually speaking louder so that Jeff _would_ hear. "And to answer your question Lisa, yes I could do better than blasting to bits whatever crossed my path. What kind of leadership is that? No offense to Cric of course, but I wish the Commander had given me a shot at leading the Voltron Force."

Lisa rolled her eyes. "You can be a real jerk sometimes, Hutch."

Hutch shrugged, clearly unapologetic. "Hey, I'm just saying what 99 of us are thinking anyway."

With that, his teammate, Cinda, rose to her feet and left the area, saying nothing but letting her disapproving glare speak volumes. As Lisa followed suit, Hutch looked after them bewildered. "What?" he asked of their retreating forms. "Point out what I've said that isn't true."

"The 'you can do better' part for starters," Ginger snapped, as she got up and brushed past him.

"How would you know?" Hutch challenged. "Women, you're too emotional to handle the truth," he scoffed as she left him standing there.

Her eyes scanned the room until she spotted Jeff with is back to her, seated a few booths down from where she'd just been.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked upon her approach.

"Suit yourself," Jeff replied as he casually flipped through a menu.

Ginger slid into the bench across from him. He continued to study the menu while Ginger tried to read his mood. Finally, she decided to cut to the chase. "I'm sorry if you heard any of that. It's not what most of us are thinking at all."

Jeff looked across at Ginger for the first time and for a moment Ginger almost regretted the intrusion. She wasn't sure if he was going to be angry with her for butting in or not. "Don't be, what he said was true."

Ginger was taken aback. "But, Jeff – "

"Well except for the idea that he could do better," Jeff added with a laugh that perplexed Ginger even further.

Ginger slumped back against the seat and regarded Jeff curiously. "I just can't figure you out, Jeff. Whenever I think I know how you're going to react you do something like this." They met as children, and then came up through Academy together, so Ginger would like to think she knew the man reasonably well.

"What can I say, I'm a complicated guy. I can go back to moping and brooding if it'll make ya feel better," he offered with a crooked smile.

"Don't be silly." Leaning in closer, she gazed deeply into Jeff's dark eyes, looking for any signs that he was putting on airs. She resisted the urge to gather one of his hands that were casually resting atop the menu he'd been looking through into her own. As usual, the man was hard to read and the fact that he seemed to so easily come out of his slump, especially in light of comments by Hutch that would normally send the Jeff she knew into a wounded-pride inspired outburst, made her suspicious of his sincerity. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"You mean do I like being demoted? No. But I decided there's no sense in dwelling on it any longer. Besides, I still have a team to lead…" He trailed off and gave a shrug before returning to the menu. "And Hutch was right," he added without looking up to meet her gaze. "I had no business just blasting away like that. I got what I deserved and I've got to stop pouting about it."

Ginger was still skeptical, but decided to let it go – for now. "Hutch was right…there's three words you don't hear often around here."

* * *

After Hutch's stunning display of insensitivity in the cafeteria, Lisa returned to her quarters. The frustration of that moment faded as she gently traced her hand along the pile of gauzy fabric that lay on her vanity. It was the dress their unwilling captive had been found in, and Lisa had taken it upon herself to clean and mend the garment. It was a fine dress, she thought, and hoped Keira would like to have it restored to her. Of course in the scheme of things, it was a small gesture but under the circumstances, it was the best thing Lisa could think of to offer the young woman short of personally finding and returning her to her own people. The girl had been heartsick and homesick, the staff getting little information out of her other than her name – not that Lisa could blame her.

Lisa picked the dress up and clutched it to her, deciding that this was as good a time as any to seek Keira out and return it to her. One of the ship's lounge rooms had been made into a makeshift quarters for their unexpected guest, and Lisa set out hoping to find Keira there. She was not disappointed.

Walking into the room, she spotted the girl sitting on a bench near a row windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. Keira's back was to Lisa, and from behind, her long, dark hair could cause her to be mistaken for Lisa herself.

Lisa approached tentatively. Once near, she extended the dress out toward Keira and said, "I mended your dress for you. Here, I thought you might like it back."

When Keira simply kept her gaze on the stars, Lisa sat down beside her with the garment laid between them. "It's a lovely dress; very well made," Lisa offered in a vain attempt to make small talk.

After an awkward moment of silence, Lisa tried one more time. "I've got some good news – we think we may have located one of the ships survivors from your world may be on." Lisa was pleased to get a reaction, although it was hard for her to tell if Keira was frightened or just stunned for the girl simply fixed a wide-eyed gaze on her. "When we get closer, we'll try to make contact."

Though she made a little progress, it was clear to Lisa this was going to be a one-sided conversation. With that, she stood and offered Keira a warm and somewhat apologetic smile before parting ways.

* * *

Keira's eyes followed Lisa's retreating form, a scowl marring her features as soon as the door slid closed behind Lisa. Lately, Keira had grown from shocked sorrow at the loss of her world to an increasing unease about what her fate would be at the hands of these people and what their true intentions were. Yes, like the woman who had just been there, the crew of the Explorer had so far treated her well and extended pleasantries and apologies to her. But the seer's words and the horrific memory of her world's last day weighed heavily on Keira not to mention the cryptic warnings of the friendly Drules – a people she'd overheard the crew of the ship refer to as an enemy. Something nagged at Keira's conscious not to trust these people from the Galaxy Alliance, and now that they may be tracking what remained her people, Keira felt alarmed – even a touch angry. Why, after causing so much destruction on Rilo would these people devote so much energy to tracking survivors unless they meant to either finish the job or make them slaves? Obviously, they had no problem holding her against her will.

Keira felt hopelessly confused as she looked down at the dress, the one she had stolen to live out her last moments in. The truth was, the people on the ship had been kind to her and she didn't know what or who to believe. Was all this kindness a ploy to gain her trust for something more sinister? One thing was clear to her – someone had to be lying to her about who was the enemy and who was the friendly people and right now, the odds were stacked against the Alliance in her eyes as to who was the friend. After all, it wasn't the Drules who'd captured her and now were hunting down the rest of her people. But what could she do to help…there was no way she could see to escape the ship as the technology was way beyond the scope of her knowledge, even if she could manage to find an escape shuttle or the like. She silently kicked herself for not volunteering to be one of those the Drules trained to fly.

Feeling hopelessly frustrated, Keira slipped out of the room and wandered down the thankfully empty hallway. She wandered aimlessly, changing her course abruptly if she detected anyone coming down the corridor. The ship was overwhelmingly vast, and soon she found herself lost, which only increased her sense of anger and agitation. It looked to her like she'd traveled into a maintenance area of the ship, given the lack of staff about, the dimly lit passages, and rows of what looked to be simply storage closets.

Tired and at her wits end, Keira leaned against the cool steel wall and began to softly weep until a voice spoke to her from within the shadows.

"Don't be afraid," the figure spoke in a haggard whisper. "I can help you."

Shocked, Keira gasped and squinted into the shadows to try to make out who was there, but it was no use – he remained cloaked in shadow. "Who are you?" she demanded while taking a step back.

"I'm with the Drules. I'm a spy they placed on this ship as a measure to try to help them stay ahead of these world-conquering thugs – but my identity must remain a secret. Do you understand?"

Keira slowly nodded, deciding to hear the man out. "But why help me?"

The spy's voice dripped with sympathy. "True helping you does endanger my own mission but…I saw what they did to your world and because of similar things I'd seen in the past I know what they'll probably do with you…"

Keira gasped. The kindnesses…they were just a front to get her off-guard! Once they get her where they want her, Keira could bet their demeanor would change.

"I – I couldn't just stand by and let them do this to you or what's left of your people."

Keira didn't know if she wanted to burst into tears or let out a cry of rage.

"I'll help you escape so you can warn your people," he continued reassuringly.

"No," she blurted. "I want to help you first." Keira simply didn't want to flee. No, she wanted to take something with her that would hurt the Alliance – some privy documents or sensitive information she could relay for the spy – anything. She was angry and wanted to strike back at her captors. Although she might have changed her mind if she could see the sinister smile that spread across the spy's lips.

"You've a fighting spirit – I like that. It will serve you well if you are serious about helping our cause."

"I am," she replied with convincing determination. She didn't know why she so easily trusted the stranger, but something in her wanted to cling on to this ray of hope.

"Good. I have just the task for you. Listen carefully…"

* * *

Hawkins was poring over a pile of paperwork related to the incident on Rilo and was about to reach for his trusty bottle of aspirin when Captain Newley appeared in the doorway of his office quarters. Newley had arrived a little earlier than expected but that could easily have been attributed to a lack of Drule opposition – they'd been suspiciously quiet lately. However, Hawkins was more than a little annoyed nobody had bothered to page him regarding the Captain's arrival.

Hawkins rose and greeted his old friend with the usual salute – as much military force of habit as a show of genuine respect – and Newley returned the gesture in kind. "Good to see you again, Commander," Newley said by way of greeting. "Although I wish it were under better circumstances."

"You and me both," Hawkins agreed after gesturing an invitation for Newley to take a seat. "You'd think with all this technology, we wouldn't be drowning in this much paperwork," Hawkins joked.

Newley surveyed the Commander's desk and smiled. "I think they keep the archaic form of record keeping alive just to punish us."

Hawkins laughed lightly. "I wouldn't doubt it. Probably the only thing left out of the second Geneva Accords and leave it to high command to keep the last permissible form of torture alive."

"Anyway, the Voltron Force leaders should be on their way down and as soon as they arrive, I'll brief you all."

No sooner had Newley said this than Jeff, Cliff and Cric appeared at the door. Once the perfunctory salutes and muttered greetings were out of the way, they joined the two officers in sitting around the table and Newley got down to business.

"The brass back at Galaxy Garrison have reviewed the preliminary reports filed regarding the incident on planet Rilo. They relayed the information to me at the base I was stationed at and I was asked to relay their findings to you. However, instead of discussing this long distance, I made the trip out here in person," Newley explained. "Partly for security reasons – you never know what new tricks the Drules have come up with to intercept communications – and partly because I feel I need more information."

Hawkins nodded. "Fair enough."

"Before I go any farther, I'll say this. The Garrison agreed with your decision in regards to Voltron Force Captain Jeffrey Jamison." All three team captains shifted uncomfortably in their seats at the statement. "The good news is it may not be permanent."

"Could they tell you anything about the people of Rilo and why they may be working with the Drules?" wondered Hawkins.

"Somewhat, though I need some first-hand information to confirm their findings," he cautioned. "Based on the information the Voltron teams gathered while there, along with pictures and data taken during fly-bys of the city and while the fighting happened combined with Professor Page's anthropological study of the native captive's clothing – the jewelry being the greatest help - they've concluded who the Rilons might be. I would like to actually interview the surviving native you have here on the Explorer."

"She ain't saying much," Jeff interjected. "About all we got out of her so far is her name."

"Not that we can blame her," Cric added.

"It's worth a shot," Newley pointed out. "At any rate, their hunch is that the Rilons are descendents of a band of eastern European gypsy-like people who migrated from Earth some time ago. These particular travelers left before overcrowding was really an issue, and long distance space travel was a lot more dangerous and experimental – it's a miracle they made it this far and thrived as well as they did."

Cliff rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Why would they leave then? Was it political?"

"In a way," Newley confirmed. "This particular group felt that our home world was getting too far advanced technologically speaking, and felt it was impossible to live the simple, spiritual life they craved. Ironically, they took advantage of the technology they so loathed to escape it."

It was Jeff's turn to look perplexed. "How did they get a ship? It's not like any common person can just rent or buy a starship and go on a space cruise…"

"If the old world records are right, they broke laws to get drafted into an early experimental program that took criminals off Earth altogether," Newley explained.

"Prison overcrowding was an issue long before general population growth was," Hawkins noted.

"Indeed," Newley agreed. "But one of these shuttles didn't reach the space station prison – it was commandeered, the fate of the crew and passengers aboard a mystery. The program was largely abandoned afterward when the UN decided it was cruel and unusual to exile people off their home planet. But it was always a theory that this shuttle debacle is what really sealed the off-site prison experiment's fate."

Cric slowly nodded. "So this girl's ancestors overtook the crew and found themselves way out here. Living their simple lives until we showed up."

"That's the theory. If it's right, it would be the farthest out we've ever found Earth born settlers the Garrison haven't placed themselves. I was hoping the girl could reveal some folklore or stories passed down through her people that might confirm or deny our thinking."

"And if you are right," Hawkins noted, "it will be harder than we ever thought to convince her or the survivors that we meant them no harm as prejudiced as they may be when it comes to technological advances."

"Seeing Voltron and that battle had to really freak them out," Cliff lamented. "And the poor girl definitely isn't used to the creature comforts we take for granted – she acts as if the automated sliding doors in this ship are going to consume her."

Cric nodded in agreement. "I think anyone you would ask will tell you she appears to be very overwhelmed and withdrawn. So good luck with your interview."

"I sympathize with that, but if we can understand who these people are and where they came from, the better chance we have of making things right," Newley explained. "Hopefully, Professor Page drew some blood or something when she first arrived – if so, I may not need her to say a thing…her DNA will tell the story for her."

Suddenly, the lights above them dimmed and turbulence rocked the ship. The men looked about in alarm, one thought striking their minds simultaneously – a Drule attack.

* * *

Keira had finally made her way back to her quarters and shucked the alien clothes she'd be issued by her captors in favor of the gown Lisa had returned to her. With any luck, her wearing it would be seen as a concession – a gesture of good will – because if she were really going to help out the spy and hope to escape, she too would have to play the game of faux sincerity. Besides, it felt good to be in the dress again; although she was annoyed they'd seemingly kept the fine jewels for themselves. True, she'd stolen them in the first place but that wasn't the point in her mind – they still belonged to her people, and the idea that these foreigners just adopted the items for their own insulted Keira to the core. No matter. She was going to have to play it cool. Now she just had to figure out the perfect moment to snoop.

Suddenly, the lights above her flickered and the ship began to quake causing Keira to cry out. She pressed herself against a wall, her mind racing to figure out what was going on. Looking out into space, she could see nothing that could be the cause of such a frightening turn of events. Then, over the loudspeakers, she heard the Voltron Force paged to their ships for battle. Fear tingled down her spine when she realized there was going to be a battle, but at the same time, a spark of motivating hope struck her. Likely, it was the friendly Drules out there – the ones she'd just sword to help.

"This is my chance," she muttered while willing herself to creep toward the door. They would all be too consumed with the fighting to pay attention to where she was and what she was up to – or so she hoped.

Before leaving, she grabbed the crumpled garment she'd previously worn and dug a folded piece of paper out of the pocket. It was a map of the Explorer the spy had given her, and he'd told her right where she needed to go…

TO BE CONTINUED


	5. Born of Frustration Part II

**Winning Days**

Book II: Born of Frustration, Part II

By Purrsia Kat

Jeff and his team raced down the hall of the Explorer toward the launching bays, the meeting long forgotten as the ship still rocked from what was no doubt a relentless Drule attack. The other two teams followed close behind, but Jeff led the pack. It wasn't just that team leader role was hard to break, but his adrenaline was pumping and only one thing was on his mind – fighting back those miserable Drules.

But just as soon as the ruckus begun, it suddenly stopped. It took Jeff a moment to realize the Explorer's alarms stopped blaring and he skidded to a halt. He turned to give the others a questioning glance only to find the same expression greeted him in return.

"What's going on?" Marvin shouted from amid the crowd of eager, if confused, pilots.

At that moment, Hawkins' voice came over the loudspeaker as if to answer Marvin's question. "Cancel launch. There was no attack – just a solar wind storm."

Cliff broke the ensuing silence with a hearty laugh. "We get all excitable over a little turbulence."

"Yeah," Hutch concurred. "We'd have seen the Drules coming before they were on top of us like that. I knew it was nothing all along – I was just following orders," he quickly added.

As the group dispersed, Jeff barely paid attention to the debate that followed regarding the Drule's sneaky ways and their ever-evolving technology. His heart was still racing, and he just needed a moment to calm down. He was about to catch up with the group when something caught his eye. The alarm console on the wall nearby had a sensor lit – flashing red to be more precise – that he'd rarely seen before. But he knew what it meant.

He hesitated, telling himself he was sure other consoles in the ship and most definitely on the bridge were picking up the signal so the Commander must know of it by now. And still, curiosity drove him deeper into the Explorer until he reached a remote area of the ship - an area few utilized except authorized personnel. He scowled when he observed the few guards about. For what they kept in that area, he'd have thought it'd be more heavily guarded. Even with the disturbance they'd had it shouldn't have shaken a guard worth his salt off his post.

He focused in on the door at the end of the corridor, its keypad lit up green – which Jeff found unsettling. He stood before the door, hesitating once again. Though none of the guards milling about in the area appeared concerned, something nagged at Jeff. Before him was a room full of classified and sensitive documents and the signal and keypad was telling him someone was in there. He knew if he stormed in and an authorized officer was in there, he would be in heaps of trouble. However, something didn't seem right to Jeff, and after a deep breath, he reached out and punched the release next to the key pad – and the door slid open. Cautiously, he entered the room, letting his eyes adjust to the dimly lit area. The room was filled with rows of filing cabinets, standing tall and rigid in the shadows like solemn sentinels. Nobody from within came forth to confront him, nor could Jeff see anybody as he scanned the room.

After he'd stepped far enough into the room, the door slid shut behind him, which further impeded his vision. Something definitely was amiss – for why would anyone legitimate be lurking around in there with just the reserve lighting on? As he crept along the aisle, his hand rested on the butt of the laser pistol at his side. Sure enough, he spied some movement at the end of the row as he rounded the corner. As he got closer, he could see it was a figure, crouched down and wearing a dark cloak so that they were hard to detect. A drawer on the cabinet they were near was pulled out, and the person was so intent on digging through it, they failed to notice Jeff closing in. No, this was not the behavior of someone who belonged there.

With one hand still on his pistol, Jeff reached out and gripped the snoop by the shoulder. "What are you doing?" he barked.

The spy dropped their files and penlight, and whirled around to gape wide-eyed at their angry accuser.

Jeff recognized those eyes and relaxed his grip on her shoulder in shock. "Keira!"

* * *

Deep below the dusty and parched surface of Drule, Nerok sat within the Supreme Council Building, watching as his peers filed in and took their seats. He was already seated, leaning back and wearing a confident smile on his lips. It widened slightly as Hazar entered the room and cast Nerok an ever-subtle glare.

To think, Hazar was a man Nerok once respected for there was a time when Hazar's plotting and efforts against the Alliance was unmatched in cunning and brutality. But in recent months Hazar had, in Nerok's opinion, become soft and he dare say, treasonous. The peace talks Hazar once assured them was merely a clever ruse to keep the Alliance off guard were now becoming a serious thing for the commander of all the Drule forces, and this troubled Nerok deeply. Not only did he not wish to waste time **talking** with the Alliance when they could just be getting rid of the interloping nuisances once and for all, but the Drule people had their pride. It was bad enough their planet was dying – they didn't need to add bowing to the Alliance to their list of embarrassing failures.

Nerok was sure Hazar's crusade was all about to be rendered academic. He already knew Throk and many others on the Supreme Council were growing tired of Hazar's increasing spinelessness, and that his latest accomplishment was sure to convince them to no longer heed Hazar's command. Nerok shifted in his seat with anticipation as Keezor started the meeting.

* * *

Hawkins paced in his office, having come there from the bridge after Jeff radioed rather urgently that they needed to meet there. It wasn't long before Jeff charged into the room; practically dragging their unwilling Rilonian guest by the arm, with two lower deck guards following close behind. Of all the things Hawkins imagined, this one hadn't even entered his mind.

"What is the meaning of this, Jeff?" Hawkins demanded his features marred by an increasing scowl.

"I caught her snooping around classified files, sir." He wasted no time getting to the point.

As soon as the door slid closed behind them, Jeff released his grip on Keira's arm. With the guards standing ominously by the door, she simply stood there between Jeff and Hawkins like a caged rat.

Hawkins had noticed sensors indicating someone in the area, but at the time thought nothing of it for it wasn't unusual for Captain Newley to make a trip to that region of the ship before he returned to his own fleet. When guards in the area hadn't raised an alarm, he assumed he'd been right.

But unlike Jeff, he knew how she'd likely managed to slip past security. In recent battles they'd lost a lot of men and during alerts like the last one, those guarding posts were sometimes called off them to take the place of the missing men in battle. It's a temporary fix that usually got them through until they could get more crew, but it obviously had its disadvantages.

Hawkins rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he studied the young girl, who was adjusting her disheveled cloak, which was little more than a blanket she'd wrapped around herself, while glaring at the floor. Knowing what he did about the girl's people he knew she didn't get access to the room alone – someone with knowledge about the Explorer and possibly some level of security clearance was helping her do their dirty work. But he knew it would also be difficult to get her to talk.

"Commander?" Jeff prompted, his expression showing his obvious disbelief at Hawkins' lack of reaction so far.

"Take her back to her quarters and guard her," Hawkins told the guards, who promptly complied. Keira put up a brief but futile resistance before being led out of the room. "Search her thoroughly," he reminded the guards as they left.

"Can you believe that?" Jeff asked rhetorically. "We save her, try to find her people and she does something like this. I don't get it."

"I do," Hawkins replied simply.

"Enlighten me."

"Think about it from her point of view," Hawkins began. "To her, we're just as strange and untrustworthy as the Drules are to us. Our fighting on her world ended it and possibly the lives of everyone she knew. Feelings of gratitude from her are a lot to expect, don't you think?"

Jeff folded his arms across his chest defensively. "Yeah, but we gotta watch our own backs, too, Commander. I mean she's getting into things she shouldn't be anywhere near. She's putting us all in jeopardy no matter how sorry we feel for her. You gotta see that, Commander."

"Of course I do, Jeff."

"Then why did you just – just slap her on the wrist like that?"

Hawkins narrowed his eyes. "Remember who you're talking to, Jeff."

Jeff winced, a sign he realized he'd overstepped his bounds – again. In some ways, Hawkins admired the young man's headstrong ways and spiritedness. They were qualities that sometimes saved their neck in life or death situation - situations where uncertainty or hesitation would cost them dearly. However, these were the same attributes that could infuriate him about Jeff, and conversely lead to the kind of carelessness that got Jeff demoted in the first place.

Hawkins sighed. "What would you have us do, Jeff? Interrogate and imprison her with the severity we would deal out to a Drule prisoner of war?"

"That's my point," Jeff asserted, his gestures becoming wide and animated to emphasize his words. "She might as well be a Drule spy. I'm willing to guess she's not looking in classified files for **our** benefit."

"I understand," Hawkins replied, his voice showing the strain of his growing impatience with Jeff's confrontational demeanor. "But I also have sympathy for what the girl has been through. If we treat her as you're suggesting, we'll never get her to understand that we're not the bad guys. Someone on this ship is a spy – I will grant you that – but this someone is playing on that poor girl's confusion to get their dirty work done. That's who we need to find and deal with harshly."

Jeff was still clearly annoyed. "So in the meantime we let her feed this spy how much damaging information?"

Hawkins stifled a groan. "Again I ask you, what would you suggest? Onboard lockdown doesn't seem good enough. So enlighten **me**."

"Our next stop is tonight, at the new Sector 3 space station."

Hawkins nodded. They were due there tonight for a gala ball the high brass there were throwing to celebrate the base's opening. It was the farthest space station they had successfully built this far from Garrison headquarters on Earth, not to mention the only one that'd been completed this close to Drule territory so it was a feat worthy a celebration. And since their fleet – and the Voltron Force – had been integral in helping guard the air space so that the project could see fruition, they'd been invited to the festivities.

"We should leave her there at the base. At least so she can't continue to work with whatever traitor is on board here. And she'd be safer there anyway – at least until we can reunite her with her people. The base is the most fortified we've ever built, and it's not under attack nearly as much as we are."

Hawkins closed his eyes and grew quiet for a moment. On one hand, they almost needed her around so they could pinpoint the real traitor among them. However, he wasn't sure if using the girl for those means and putting her in that kind of danger was at all humane. In addition, there was always the concern that this cohort of hers might do away with her if he saw she was no longer useful to him, especially if he feared she might be able to give away clues to his or her identity. Perhaps Jeff's idea was a good one.

"I'll consider it," he relented. "Of course, it depends on Commander Steele's approval to take her on." Steele had been deployed to helm the new station, so it would surely have to be approved by him ultimately.

Jeff finally relaxed and looked satisfied. "Thank you. Sir," he added hastily, almost as an afterthought.

"Also, keep this business about Keira and a spy under wraps for now. I may let Cric and Cliff in on the details later, but we don't need word getting around so that our traitor is spooked."

"Of course, sir."

"You're dismissed."

Jeff gave a quick salute before getting on his way.

* * *

Little did either of them know, but elsewhere, hidden in the shadows of a deserted part of the Explorer, sat the spy they sought. And he'd heard everything that had just happened thanks to a nearly undetectable bug he'd slipped into Hawkins' office some time ago. Almost getting caught was well worth it now, and he grinned as the "private" conversation poured through the earpiece he had tucked snugly in his ear.

His little accomplice was proving incompetent, but that was okay by him. Her usefulness had almost run its course. While the others were patting themselves on the back at the Gala tonight, that would be his last chance to use the girl to his advantage. That is, if everything went well and she managed to get – and keep – what he'd needed from those files.

After quickly punching in additional text information into the device that recorded what had just taken place in Hawkins' office quarters, the spy forwarded all the information to Nerok. Yes, the Drule was going to want to be in the area if all went as planned tonight.

He'd been sabotaging the Explorer and her crew for some time in often subtle but important ways. Then, when they took that disgruntled yet naïve girl aboard, she provided a perfect disposable foil for his ultimate plot. The fact that one of the Alliance's own was a traitor among them was going to be the least shocking thing compared to what he had planned.

He sat back, sighed, and smiled contently. Honestly, he hadn't ever dreamed he'd go traitor. Nor had he ever dreamed he'd end up **enjoying** twisting the proverbial knife into the Allinace's back so damn much. Really, it was all very much unlike his old self. His old, misguided foolish self. They'd all be so appalled to know it was him, an Earth born and bred loyalist – who came from a long line of proud space sailors – that was doing this to them.

But he had his reasons. Maybe his ancestors were content to work their fingers to the bone and put their lives on the line to get little in the way of promotions, compensation or recognition for their efforts. It was no longer good enough for him. Besides, after being out among the stars, traveling with the crew for so long, he believed he actually saw beyond the stilted bias that fed Alliance propaganda to those back on Earth. That machine that fed such an unjustified sense of pride and righteousness to those poor uninformed fools back home. He could safely say it wasn't just greed driving him now, though Nerok paid him extremely well. No, he truly sympathized with the Drule cause. The Alliance was nothing more than interloping imperialists! Space was insanely vast, he reasoned, so why did they insist on poking around in the Drule's backyard? Politics, stupidity and greed were all it added up to in his mind, and he meant to help put a stop to the insanity. And maybe if the Alliance learned this grievous lesson, they'd stop poking around where they're clearly not wanted or invited and stop sending so many of their own sheep out to slaughter fighting this stupid, pointless war.

He couldn't help it. It's how he felt. And in his own mind, he was doing a far greater good. It's what he told himself, anyway. Sure, this group was going to be sacrificed, but how many young men and women would be saved in the long run if this were put to a stop now? This is what made sense to him and what drove him to these extremes - this deep helplessness born of his own frustrations.

He wasn't a fool, though. He knew Nerok was a self-serving, backstabbing snake. There was no doubt about that. Ironically, those were the qualities that made him ultimately choose Nerok as his Drule contact. He knew Nerok was one Drule who would not turn him in for any price or consequence. The fat bastard was simply too proud and hell bent on the Alliance's destruction to see or consider anything else. And from what he'd heard about Hazar going soft, he was now glad he hadn't chose him or he'd likely be ratted out by now.

Yes, it was all coming together beautifully. And with a little more luck, it'd all come crashing down on the Explorer crew tonight with a grand and devastating crescendo.

Tucking his device into his waistband, he rose and headed down the hall smiling and humming a bouncy tune all the way back to his post on the bridge of he Explorer.

* * *

Back on Drule, Nerok's satisfaction grew as Hazar struggled to make his case to the council for his hare brained peace plan. The more Hazar got flustered during the meeting, the more Nerok wanted to laugh in his face. Served the fool right for not listening to him and countless other Drule leaders who knew what was best for their people. What the hell did Hazar think giving in would get them? Under the thumb of the Alliance, that's what!

Hazar clearly struggled to keep his emotions in check as he tried to explain for the last time his reasoning in offering a sincere olive branch to the Alliance. "Gentlemen, please," he pleaded to which Nerok audibly snorted.

_Get out your shovels, gentlemen,_ Nerok thought to his amusement_. We're going to have a lot of meaningless bullshit to shovel out from under shortly. _He simply flashed a snide grin in Hazar's direction when the Commander briefly showed his annoyance at Nerok's derisive snorting.

"I know you're apprehensive about the Alliance and their intentions in this part of the galaxy. So am I!" Hazar explained, his voice becoming strained and pleading.

Zabar, who was seated beside Nerok, shook his head vehemently. "Then why are you risking the Empire by constantly making concessions to them? It's **embarrassing**."

"Not to mention **treasonous**," Nerok quipped, feeling emboldened by the fact that Hazar, despite having quite an impressive rank, was outnumbered in the arena of popular opinion among those at the table.

"As I've been trying to tell you, if I can stop being interrupted," he added with notable exasperation, "it's because of our overall situation. I believe the time to be focused on conquest, pride and glory is over – or at the very least must be put aside for now. In case you have forgotten, our planet is dying, and if it goes before we find somewhere to move all our people, we will be extinct."

Nerok couldn't help but have a stupid grin on his face as he watched Hazar's eyes burn with desperation, although he mistook it for the kind of desperation that strikes a man that sits on the precipice of losing all his power and influence.

"We need to concentrate on a new world for our people before it's too late. If that means compromising or working with the Alliance in the meantime so that we can stop wasting time and resources fighting them, then fine. What's the point of being 'right' if we're all going to end up extinct?" Hazar managed to make his point, finally, in the forceful and, Nerok had to admit, convincing tone that had always made Hazar worthy of a leadership role.

Keezor arched a brow. "Surely you've read the most recent reports from our top scientists. They clearly state we have ample time –"

Hazar rose, his self-control ebbing away by the instant. "Are you blind? Look around you! We live like animals, driven underground and cringing under the force of quakes that grow increasingly violent! Every Drule knows it's only a matter of time, and frankly, I think we have even **less** time than we think. As for the scientists' reports, I've read them. And all I have to say about that are they know what you want to hear thanks to –"

Nerok could hardly contain his glee, though it was somewhat dashed when Mongo cut Hazar short from accusing the scientists of being bribed and corrupted by Drule politicians by placing a hand on Hazar's forearm. Mongo, aside from Hazar's overly dramatic sister Dorma, was one of Hazar's only friends left within the Drule hierarchy, and he was lucky he had such a friend present before he shot off his mouth and found his head rolling. Though it was unfortunate for Mongo to be torn between loyalty to Hazar and the Drule command – he was an admirably ruthless warrior in his own right. But then, Nerok thought, nobody told him to cling to a friend who had clearly lost his mind. If he was going to be that weak, Nerok didn't care if they both went down in a blaze of shame together.

Hazar rested his palms on the council table, leaning his weight onto them and hanging his head as he visibly tried to grapple for control of his thoughts and emotions. Mongo looked physically pained to see his friend struggle so. And Nerok cleared his throat obnoxiously to keep from laughing out loud at the absurdity of it all.

Keezor simply looked unimpressed. "I surely hope you have something besides unproven political conspiracy theories to back up your actions."

Hazar sank slowly into his seat, his eyes remaining closed. He remained silent, signaling defeat.

"Fine then. We'll let the record show that Hazar has had his moment to be heard," Keezor continued. "And now we'll take a final vote to confirm that Viceroy Throk's recommendation that Hazar be demoted is carried out."

Not surprisingly, only Mongo declined to cast a yea for the demotion. And so it was decided in kangaroo court style, that Hazar was ordered in command of a practically useless base near the edge of the Drule's territory. Of course, because his father was so respected, he was given a perfunctory fleet to "command" but as far as Nerok was concerned, this was the next best thing to actually seeing Hazar jailed for his stupidity.

As he meeting broke up, Nerok was glad to have a beeper-like device he carried go off, because it gave him an excuse not to stick around and watch Dorma go all weepy at the news of her poor brother's fate in what was, more or less, exile. When he read the message from his spy aboard the Explorer, he couldn't help but cackle devilishly. Breaking away from his comrades, he headed for the launching bay and his fleet – he had a date with the Alliance's demise tonight!

* * *

Jeff tugged on the front of his jacket absently as he stood with the rest of his teammates waiting to make their grand entrance into the grand ball that had been set up as a victory celebration. And no doubt, he figured, ripe for the schmoozings of the big brass. He had to admit to himself that he was a little anxious, as this type of function wasn't normally his thing. But the commander insisted this would somehow be relaxing, so he glanced down and checked his formal wear one more time to make sure everything was in order.

As the large elevator descended down through the base, Jeff couldn't help but feel a little claustrophobic; after all, fifteen of them were packed in there which made the area not feel spacious as all. Cliff stood casually leaning against the elevator wall near him, idly watching the floor numbers light one by one as they traveled. He didn't seem bothered one way or the other but then, Jeff considered, Cliff was for the most part pretty laid back. If a few hours of hob-knobbing with Garrison brass were what he had to endure, he just did it like he would anything else.

Cliff must have picked up on Jeff's nerves, for it was then that he cast him a curious glance. "For goodness sake, Jeff, you act like you're going to greet your girlfriend's parents before your first big formal dance." He chuckled, apparently having amused himself with his own analogy.

Jeff shrugged, making his best attempt at being casual. "I just don't care for his kinda stuff. Besides, there are going to be a lot of higher-ups around, and I don't need them breathing down my neck."

"Oh?" Cliff remarked casually. "Concerned about the future of your military career are you?"

"I didn't say that –"

"Heh, if you are, you've gone in the wrong direction with rank lately," came a wisecrack from behind Jeff, from a voice that could belong to no other but Hutch.

Jeff turned as much as he could to glare in the general direction of the offending loud mouth.

Lisa groaned. "Guys, please don't start. The last thing we need is for the lot of you hot heads to come out of this elevator swinging."

A grin spread on Cliff's face. "Imagine that. We're the peacekeepers of the universe, yet we can barely take a two minute elevator ride together without erupting into a brawl."

"Ha ha. I'm glad you find it all so amusing," Jeff replied with a slight pout as he turned to face the elevator doors again. One of these days, Hutch was going to have an aching jaw thanks to that mouth of his. But Lisa was right. Now wasn't the time to get into it with any of them.

A collective sigh of relief seemed to radiate from the group simultaneously as the elevator glided to a halt and the doors slid open. They stepped out into a breathtaking expanse of a room, with enough gilded gold and sparkling chandeliers hanging from the vaulted ceilings to dazzled any diplomat or royal from around the galaxy.

_Definitely_ not _my thing_, Jeff thought. He also found it slightly unfair that Hawkins stayed behind on the Explorer. He'd have gladly stood watch than to get into this suit that was never going to feel comfortable or natural to him and come here. When the Commander assured Jeff that he deserved to relax and have fun, he almost asked if Hawkins was being funny.

Just then, Hutch sidled up beside Jeff. "Remember, if you want to go all the way to the top, get used to this kind of stuff. That is, if you can get that following orders thing down."

Hutch wisely moved out of the way, quickly striding into the crowd of party-goers, leaving Jeff behind fuming. He stepped aggressively forward as if to pursue Hutch but found himself stopped by Lisa.

She placed her hands over the lapels of his jacket in a gentle gesture to stop his pursuit. "Remember what I said," she gently warned, her dark eyes deep with concern.

Jeff softened and sighed. "I know," he conceded. "I promise I won't deck him. Tonight."

"I know he can be a real jerk," Lisa noted, a bit warily. "But I still hate to see us fight amongst ourselves."

Jeff studied Lisa closely for a moment before offering a comforting smile. Almost from the start of his tour on the Explorer he found Lisa to be intriguing, almost exotic to him. She was quiet, intense with a sincerity that rivaled anyone he knew - and she was from another world. She also had modesty about her own beauty that was refreshing. If Jeff could find himself crushing on one of his teammates, she would be the one. And the way she looked in the satin plum colored gown she wore, gave Jeff pause to take a second look.

Jeff stopped himself from considering the possibilities and simply placed his hands over Lisa's bare, pale shoulders. He met her gaze, her soulful eyes searching his expression with hope that she was getting through to him. "I really promise you, I'll behave. Even if Hutch manages to top himself in the stupid jerk department tonight."

Lisa smiled sweetly. "I appreciate it. Now go have a good time. You know, we could be fighting the Drules instead. Be grateful for a peaceful moment," she added before breaking away to join the other girls near the bar.

"I'd almost rather be fighting the Drules," Jeff muttered under his breath once Lisa was out of earshot. He scanned the room, recognizing many of the captains and commanders of the Garrison – and none of which he felt like socializing with. He began looking past all the minglers for a nice corner to hide or at least be inconspicuous in.

He soon spotted a doorway that looked as though it lead to a smaller and unoccupied secondary room. Jeff quickly ducked his way through the crowd, careful not to make eye contact lest he risk being dragged into a boring conversation about the "old days" at the Garrsion by some geriatric officer.

He sighed with relief as he cleared the threshold, surprised to see a few of his comrades were already there. Cliff and Marvin stood in the semi-darkness laughing and sipping on drinks. Jeff immediately chastised himself for not stopping at the bar first. At least Hutch was nowhere in sight.

"Hey guys," he announced by way of greeting.

"I was wondering how long it'd take you to notice this place," Cliff remarked.

"Well here I am," Jeff replied, trying not to eye their drinks with too much envy.

Marvin certainly didn't seem to notice. His mind was clearly elsewhere. "How about the girls, eh? They clean up nice."

"As opposed to an ordinary day where they resemble the common filthy street urchin," Cliff noted with sarcasm.

"You know what I mean," Marvin insisted. "It's not everyday you get to see 'em in dresses like that. Especially that Ginger. Pink is definitely her color."

Jeff shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I hadn't noticed."

"What do you mean!" Marvin was incredulous. "Are you blind?"

Jeff could feel himself start to blush. "Well, I **noticed** of course, but you know, Ginger and I go way back. She's like a kid sister to me, you know?"

"Of course," Cliff said dryly. "But I couldn't help but see how you were checking Lisa out earlier."

Jeff's cheeks felt like they were on fire.

"See that," Cliff noted, pointing out Jeff's flaming cheeks to Marvin. "Guilty."

"Knock it off, you guys," Jeff insisted, though quite weakly. He started to seriously consider going back out into the party.

It was then that Marvin called attention to a newcomer to their gathering. "Hey, Ginger. Jeff has a crush on Lisa!"

Jeff turned to see Ginger, indeed quite a vision in a strapless pink satin and tulle dress, though she looked paler than normal. She appeared almost stunned to him, but only for a moment. She held two drinks in her hand, and held one out for Jeff to take.

After clearing her throat, she said, "Here. You looked thirsty."

"You always know what I need," Jeff replied gratefully, taking the drink. "Never mind Marvin, by the way. We think he's had too much to drink already. Or maybe too much exposure to Hutch."

"Or both," Ginger joked, somewhat weakly.

Cliff merely observed the group dynamics with marked curiosity, but for now, remarked on none of it.

"What, it's not like isn't obvious that Jeff was checking her out," Marvin declared, defending his position. "What's the big deal? You like her, ask her out already."

Jeff stared down into his martini glass, very much aware that his blush still raged in his cheeks, and that everyone in the room was staring at him like he was under a microscope. This was certainly awkward. "Shut up, Marvin," was all he could manage to mutter. It was tempting to deck him. After all, he only told Lisa he wouldn't hit Hutch, though he doubted she'd buy into such a technicality.

What they needed was a change of subject. But before he could craft a convincing one to break the awkward silence, Lisa joined the group. She seemed to sense something was going on.

"Am I interrupting something?" she asked sheepishly.

"No," Cliff chimed in, while grabbing Marvin by the arm. "We're just leaving actually."

"Hey, you're spilling my drink," Marvin cried.

"Let's go," Cliff insisted.

Ginger flashed a half-hearted smile. "I'm right behind you guys." She seemed like she couldn't get out of the room fast enough.

Lisa watched the others leave and then turned to study Jeff, who was still gazing down into his glass. "I definitely missed something."

Jeff felt Lisa's slender hand brush his face, and he jerked his head up.

"You're blushing!" Lisa noted.

Jeff turned aside and shrugged. "You know how they can be."

"That I do," Lisa agreed. After a moment of silence, she continued. "Listen, you can't spend the whole party hiding in here." She gently touched him on the arm. "Come on," she coaxed.

Jeff turned to regard her. Knowing Marvin's penchant for gossip and the fact that by now word had already gotten to Hutch about everything, he really had nothing to lose. But first, he had to find out if she had a boyfriend or anything back home, but in a subtle way.

"Okay, but let's just stay here and talk for a minute," he began. When Lisa seemed agreeable to it, he forged on. "Anyone you miss from back home?"

"My parents of course," she replied, content to make small talk. "I guess that's it. I haven't really got anybody else. You?"

"Me too."

What happened next Jeff would have liked to blame on the alcohol if not for the fact that he'd only taken a sip so far. Before he had a chance to second guess himself, he leaned in, catching Lisa's delicate chin with his free hand and tilting her face up to meet his. He kissed her lightly at first. But when she seemed to return the gesture, the kiss grew deeper.

It felt like he'd only begun to relish in the embrace when she promptly broke it. "I – I can't," was all she could muster as an explanation before dashing back into the crowd in the adjoining room. She almost seemed guilty for what had transpired.

Jeff stood there, more confused than ever. The whole damn universe was going insane around him. Or so it seemed.

* * *

Back on the Explorer, Kiera was restless. She wondered how the man helping her could get to her now that guards stood outside her door. Of course, she'd copied the documents she was directed to into a tiny recorder device he'd given her, and swallowed the encapsulated information. It took her many trial runs and practice to use the recorder right – so strange was all the technology the spy was equipped with. She hoped she got it right when it counted.

The capsule had made her sick, and she had expelled it some time ago. Now she was afraid they'd come in and do a search, find it, and make all her trouble for naught. Keira paced nervously in the converted lounge that was her quarters, watching out the windows at the sprawling structure of steel the Explorer hovered above. It amazed her that men could construct such a massive structure in the emptiness of space and then live within it. It was awesome and frightening to her at the same time. She would prefer to have her feet on solid ground any day.

Keira whirled around as the doors to her chambers slid open, and in marched the guards that were in charge of keeping her out of trouble.

"What do you want?" she choked out, not liking at all the grim look on their faces.

"You're coming with us. We have orders to take you off the Explorer onto the base," explained the one on the right.

Keira twisted to look out the windows again at the looming structure, which magnified her sense of intimidation. Who knew what they did to prisoners in a place like that. She shook her head, trying to clear images of torture from her head that the spy had told her these people were capable of. "No, wait – I –"

She stopped her protest when she felt a firm grip on her arm. Keira tore her eyes off the base below, determined to stare her captor in the eye. A gasp of shock escaped her lips when she saw that it was not one of the guards who had hold of her, but a man cloaked in a full face mask. It took her a moment to realize the guards lay unconscious at their feet.

Keira was dumbfounded and speechless.

"Don't worry, they are unharmed. I simply knocked them out with a little ether."

As soon as the mystery man spoke she knew it was her friend – her only ally on the ship, and relaxed in her relief.

"The time has come for you to be strong, Keira. You will leave the Explorer tonight, but not to go to the base."

Keira slowly nodded and tried not to think about knots her stomach was in.

"While they are down there at their fancy party, having laughs and a good time, you will make your escape. That is…if you delivered what I asked of you."

Keira felt a surge of anger to think that they expected her to believe they were so hard at work to find her people when they made stops such as this to be merry while those they inflicted harm on are out there somewhere suffering and scared.

He let go of her so she could dash to large potted plant in the corner, where she had buried the capsule after she'd expelled it. Running back to him, she held it out for him to take, regarding him with a look that showed she was desperate to please him. She felt such a strong bond with the spy – perhaps borne of their mutual mission – and only hoped she'd done well.

As he took the capsule from her, their eyes met and she thought she saw a stroke of pity flash in his dark eyes for a moment. As he hurried to the task of analyzing the capsules tiny device for digital information, Keira waited anxiously and wondered what he was going to have her do next that would garner such a piteous look from him.

TO BE CONTINUED


	6. Born of Frustration Part III

**Winning Days**

Book II: Born of Frustration, Part III

By Purrsia Kat

After she saw Lisa dash out of the room where she'd left moments before, Ginger steeled herself to go back in and talk to Jeff. Ranks and rules aside, her feelings were her feelings and she wasn't about to stifle them any longer. Putting down her drink, she clutched the pink tulle on the skirt of her gown to raise it slightly, and dashed back into the adjacent room.

She found Jeff standing there alone, in the semi-darkness, sipping on the drink she'd given him earlier. Face to face with him, she became flustered and was afraid she was about to lose all courage. Before she could say a word, Jeff regarded her coolly.

"I was hoping you'd come back. I'm sorry about before," he began.

"Y-you are?"

Jeff smiled which gave Ginger an unexpected bout of the butterflies. "Yeah. I just didn't want them to know."

"Know what?" Ginger prodded, unbelieving that he was about to confess what she wanted to hear. She almost couldn't stand how coy he was being – she needed to hear it straight from him.

"You know. How I really feel about you. If we're going to be a couple, we'll have to keep a low profile."

Ginger's heart pounded. So he did feel the way she did. He didn't regard her in a familial way at all! "Of course," she stammered, still quite stunned by the speed at which all was being revealed. It was like a dream come true.

"Poor Lisa. She took it kind of hard after believing all that stuff Marvin and Cliff were saying, but--" he paused to draw Ginger close to him, setting down his drink and wrapping his arms around her slender waist. " – she's just not the one for me."

As he bent his head down to kiss her, Ginger's heart pounded furiously – partly from the thrill of the moment and partly because they were in major danger of being discovered, which was a thrill all its own. The excitement was almost too much to bear.

He kissed her tenderly, his lips soft and sweet. She closed her eyes and relished the sensation, sighing as he moved from her lips to explore her jaw line. Then he moved on to her neck and on farther, until he was gently kissing the exposed upper portion of her breasts that the strapless gown revealed.

"Oh, Jeff…" she gasped, thrilled as she was with his every touch.

"Ginger?" came a questioning reply, but it did not come from Jeff.

Ginger was shocked. "Marvin!" she shrieked, pushing her Romeo away, appalled to see Marvin's gangly visage staring back at her.

She blinked, his unmistakable if slightly nasal voice snapping her clean out of her romantic reverie. She still sat on the same bench seat along the wall away from the larger crowd - the spot she'd picked out soon after she'd heard Jeff's stinging admission. The embrace, the kiss; it was all a fantasy in her head.

Ginger's cheeks flushed, and she found herself very annoyed at Marvin, who was regarding her with a bemused curiosity. "What do you want?" she snapped.

He grimaced in response to the annoyance in her voice. "You just looked lonely is all. What were you mumbling about Jeff for?"

It was Ginger's turn to grimace.

It was then that Cliff meandered over and shooed Marvin away. Ginger was relieved for a moment – until Cliff sat down beside her to ask his own set of prying questions.

"You don't strike me as the wallflower type," he remarked. "Want to talk about it?"

Ginger sighed. "There's nothing to talk about."

Though she kept her eyes fixed on the crowd of mingling socialites in front of her, she could feel Cliff's gaze on her and wished she could just disappear. "Perhaps we've all been cooped up together too long on this mission."

"Probably," Ginger offered flatly, avoiding the Land Team leader's scrutinizing look.

"We've grown together like family," he pressed, "and we even fight like siblings, too."

Ginger finally turned to look at Cliff. "And I'm everyone's favorite sister. Is that it?"

Cliff arched a brow. "Tell me, what is it about Jeff that has all you ladies so enthralled? Are the rest of us not reckless enough?"

Ginger turned away and rose to her feet.

"You know," she heard Cliff warn her before she walked away. "For any of us to get involved with one another would not be tolerated by the higher-ups. Think about that before you go doing something that might not only ruin your friendship with him, but your career with the Alliance as well. You're too good a pilot to throw it all away."

With that, Ginger simply walked away fuming, not wanting to hear any more of Cliff's blunt and unsolicited advice. Though what he said was true, she knew. She had told herself the same thing for the longest time and it's what kept her from acting on any of her feelings. Given that, she felt ridiculous for feeling so hurt over what she'd overheard but she couldn't help it. Rules of conduct aside, the feelings were there and they were not governed by reason or rationality. And part of her nagged that if Jeff was such a rule breaker and risk taker, perhaps he would pursue a relationship. But now she feared it would not be with her. Ginger's only hope was that Lisa, who she saw across the room talking with Cric, didn't – or wouldn't – return any feelings Jeff may have.

* * *

Keira was glad of one thing. The spy had accompanied her this far. He'd taken her through the docking bay via the maintenance corridor, having had all the security cameras intervals down to a science. There was no way she could have made it on her own, no matter how much he'd instructed her. It was enough of a miracle she'd gotten into the classifieds with him helping her only remotely, but even then she got caught. There was no room for error now.

Why she trusted this stranger whose name she didn't know and face she'd never seen was strange to her. Perhaps it was because he was the only one who seemed to really care about her and her fate. He was the only one who seemed to care how she really felt and about her desire to flee – to not feel so helpless and loss. Her life was in his hands now.

She'd thought they were going to steal away in an escape pod given he'd had her dress in one of the space worthy suits he'd brought to her, but as they came into the launch bay, her eyes widened. There, docked in groups of five in the semi-darkness, were the ships that made up that horrible monster that helped destroy her world. It would appear they weren't after just any ship.

"You're coming with me, right?" she whispered. Surely he didn't expect –

He shook his head. "No, I'm still needed here. But I've been able to set the codes and frequencies on this," he said, passing her a hand-held electronic gadget, "so that, when you place it underneath the console of any of these ships, you'll need to do nothing else but hold on for the ride. That is, thanks to the information you gathered."

Keira blushed and felt a rush of pride that overshadowed her nerves for a moment. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders. "Be brave, Keira. You are doing a good thing. For yourself. For your people. For everyone in this galaxy. You believe that, don't you?"

Keira nodded. He sounded so sincere, and she gazed up into his eyes – which were the only feature of his face visible behind the mask he wore – with eagerness and admiration shining in her own. She believed in this fight - just the two of them against such impossible odds. She didn't even stop to wonder whether or not this untested plan would even work, or that he could be sending her off in case it literally crashed and burned. No, she needed to believe in this. In him.

He then pointed to the red fighter jet, the same one Keira had ridden in – though she barely remembered the ride – when she left Rilo. "You'll take that one. It's key in the formation of Voltron being that much of his energy packs are there, as well as the solar receptors and main navigation units for him. Without that one ship, that monster that devastated your world will be no more."

Keira took a deep breath. She could do this! She could just sit in that ship and make her escape while at the same time, doing some good by helping the Drules. She clasped both hands around the device and brought it to her chest. "Okay," she said, trying to make her voice reflect how firm and determined she was in her heart, although it betrayed her by breaking.

Taking her by the hand, they ran to the ship, the one Ginger flew. He triggered the manual override for the canopy, and Keira watched in awe as it slid back.

"We don't have much time before those guards awake and report you're missing," the spy gently reminded her. "Are you sure you can do this?"

Keira had never been so afraid in all her life. She swallowed hard. "Yes."

He helped her climb up into the cockpit and instructed her one last time on where to place the device and how to activate it. "Don't worry," he assured her. "They won't shoot you down. They can't risk losing this ship. Nerok, my contact with the Drules, will be waiting to receive you not too far away, although he had to keep somewhat of a distance to go undetected. Everything is programmed into the device. All you have to do is just sit there."

Keira settled uneasily into the pilot's seat and looked all about the craft. She closed her eyes and nodded.

"I leave you now."

When she looked up, the spy was gone and the canopy was sliding closed. The disappointment of not being able to thank him crumbled as the reality of what she was about to do overwhelmed her.

Tentatively, she leaned over and reached out, feeling for the spot under the ship's main console where she needed to place the device. When she did, it clicked in and stuck like a magnet. She paused a moment, then pressed the switch on he device, as she had been told.

The ship almost instantly came to life and the engines fired up. Startled by the events, she sat back sharply in the seat. Ahead of her, she saw the door on the launch bay lift to reveal the starry space ahead.

This is it, she told herself.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when restraints in the seat automatically came out and over her shoulders to hold her in the seat. She shuddered to think what other surprises awaited her.

Suddenly, alarms on the Explorer itself began to blare and to her horror, the launch bay door began to descend. Obviously, those in power were aware that an unauthorized launch was being attempted and they meant to stop it. She feared what they'd do to her if she were caught now more than she feared flying. All Keira could do was clutch at her restraints and pray she would make it – she couldn't turn back now. This was it.

Then, the ship took off and with such a force Keira was pushed back hard into the seat. A small cry escaped her as she narrowly cleared the launch bay door and flew up and out. She had put all her trust – indeed her life – in the belief that a ship and a device she didn't understand would deliver her to freedom. Much like her ancestors had long ago. Keira prayed their luck would be with her.

* * *

Right before the alarms sounded, Hawkins had been idly wondering about how things were going at the party below, taking his mind for a moment off of who this traitor on board could be. The ensuing cacophony of alarms ended that, and the crew on the bridge of the Explorer with him barely had time to react to his rapid-fire orders. It didn't take long to determine a ship was launching without clearance, and what was worse, the ship in question was part of the Air Team squad. Yet, Hawkins knew all the team members were down below at the base, attending the gala.

He groaned in frustration when they'd failed to stop the thief by closing the bay door. Hawkins had the base alerted to the trouble, and then tried to contact Ginger's ship to no avail. Just then, two dazed men came onto the bridge, and Hawkins' heart sank when he recognized them as the pair assigned to guard Keira. They told him they'd gone to take the girl with them in preparation to escort her to the base. But the next thing they knew, they were waking up in a daze and she was simply gone. Hawkins couldn't believe what he was hearing. Whoever was helping Keira knew what they were doing and was no doubt behind the taking of the fighter plane. It was one of the 15 units they could surely not form Voltron without, and Hawkins had a hunch the traitor knew this, in addition to having access to privy information and a talent with technology.

Was it their traitor flying the ship? And was Keira with him? Willingly?

"You never found anything on the girl when you first put her in the room, right?" Hawkins asked the pair, double-checking to be sure.

"No sir. We searched her and the room. It appeared she took nothing from the records room."

Hawkins paced, trying to piece together what happened and figure out what to do next. Where were the teams? It seemed like the minutes ticked by agonizingly slow as he waited for the shuttle that carried the Voltron Force back to the Explorer.

They'd hastily dressed in their space-worthy uniforms on the way and had been briefed on the situation. Hawkins watched anxiously as they launched, hoping they could recover Ginger's ship. He had a bad feeling that the ship was headed someplace he dared not fully consider.

* * *

As Jeff boarded his ship with Ginger in tow, he was focused on one thing - getting that ship back and beating the snot of the thief. Taking off, he gunned the throttle hard seemingly forgetful of his passenger who had no seat and hence, Ginger had a hard time holding steady inside the cockpit. She said nothing, however, perhaps herself too anxious to get her ship back.

In his passion for the pursuit, Jeff forgot he was not in charge of all the teams any longer and instinctively began barking orders. Cric gently reminded him by popping onto a private channel of their ships' communicators, and Jeff fell silent as the teams heeded Cric's suggestion to form into their five part combat sub-units. All, that is, except for the Air Team, which had to stay in single formation. He shook off the chain of command gaffe and focused anew on the mission ahead. Just because he wasn't in full command didn't mean he couldn't take initiative.

He began closing the distance between the stolen craft and his own ship, as it became apparent the plane was on some sort of autopilot and thus traveling at a constant speed. However, it was an autopilot that Jeff soon found out he could not interfere with or override. And shockingly, neither could Hawkins from the Explorer.

Perspiration dotted his brow, and his jaw clenched with every combination of scanners and codes that yielded no results. One thing finally did work, however. He was able to link up to the plane's telescreen and get a look at the culprit. It was a fleeting, touch-and-go connection. And although the teams had been briefed on who possibly might be inside, cries of shock came from both he and Ginger. Even within an oversize Alliance uniform and with a helmet on, he recognized that it was Keira, looking pale and petrified. And she was alone. Surprisingly, his anger did not subside at all with this new information. If anything, the knowledge infuriated him more.

What the hell did she think she was doing?

And how did she even manage to do it?

After he relayed the information to his teammates and the command ship, Jeff pushed his ship to the limit to bleed the last bit of speed out of it. Whatever she was up to, she wasn't getting away with it. He would make sure of it.

"Keira!" he shouted into the communicator as her image flickered on and off the screen on his console. "You don't know what you're doing. You're in great danger." He wasn't sure if she could hear him or not, but he wanted desperately to appeal to her sense of self-preservation and reason. She surely did not look comfortable with her situation. He clung to the chance he could talk her into disabling whatever it was that was controlling the ship. That is, if she knew how. He fought back an increasing feeling of hopelessness.

Noticing another channel on his communicator opening up, he switched expecting to see the Commander or one of his teammates materialize on the screen. He got a shock when Nerok's smug image showed up instead.

"She knows exactly what she's doing, I assure you."

Adrenaline coursed anew through Jeff's veins. The Drules were involved which meant Keira was probably taking the ship to –

"Jeff, look!" Ginger shouted, pointing ahead.

Indeed, looking out past the path of the stolen craft loomed objects coming into view that could only be an entire Drule fleet. At the same time, radar was picking up hundreds of blips heading toward them at a much faster rate. Jeff had no doubt they were Drule fighter ships. They needed reinforcements and hoped squads from the base would be enough without Voltron.

* * *

Keira wanted badly to keep her eyes clenched tightly shut but when she did so, the nausea threatened to overtake her. Surely she was not used to this kind of motion and speed. Her terror intensified as she realized the other ships were following her, although she tried to think of what the spy told her - that the ship she stole was too important to them to be shot down.

She'd heard the man who'd caught her snooping about before urge her to cooperate with him but she was too terrified to move. If she touched anything now and the ship went out of control – oh, but she couldn't bear to think of the consequences. No, she was in too deep now. She planned to stick with the original plan and that was to run. Run to the safety of the Drules.

Keira began to weep openly when she saw the Drule fleet come into view. They'd kept their word! They were going to save her! Fighter planes zipped past her, and she was grateful when they fired on her pursuers, warding them off.

Her heart skipped a beat when she felt the plane power down to a slower speed, panicking for a moment as her mind raced with the thoughts of power failures or any other kind of deadly catastrophe that could go wrong with one of these contraptions. She was gripping her restraints so tightly, her knuckles were likely whiter than the gloves she wore.

Soon she realized why the plane slowed. She was getting ever closer to the main Drule fleet. Keira tried to remain calm as the plane banked, it seemingly drawn to a particular ship in the fleet.

"It's almost over," she whispered to herself, her voice nothing but a dry croak inside her parched mouth. "It's almost over."

With the ship at the banked angle, she dared glace behind her to see space was alight with brilliant laser fire where the brave Drules fought to keep her oppressors at bay. She hoped not many of them would be hurt.

Indeed the plane sought the Drule's command ship and as she neared, she could see a door on its side slowly slide open. As the glow of a tractor beam from the command ship gently guided her in, Keira knew freedom and safety were just moments away.

* * *

All this frustration  
I can't meet all my desires  
Strange conversation  
Self-control has just expired  
All an illusion  
Only in my head you don't exist  
Who are you fooling  
Don't need a shrink but an exorcist

Show me the movie  
Of who you are and where you're from  
Born of frustration  
Caught up in the webs you've spun  
Where's the confusion  
A vision of what life is like  
Show me the movie  
That doesn't deal in black and white

Stop stop talking about who's to blame  
When all that counts is how to change

I'm living in the weirdest dream  
Where nothing is the way it seems  
Where no one's who they need to be  
Where nothing seems that real to me  
What can we build our lives upon  
No wall of stone, no solid ground  
The world is spinning endlessly  
We're clinging to our own beliefs

Born of frustration

--Born of Frustration, James


	7. There's No Other Way Part I

**Winning Days**

Book III: There's No Other Way, Part I

By Purrsia Kat

Bathed in the blue glow of the tractor beam, Keira stared in wide-eyed wonder as the docking bay door to the Drule command ship opened and she was guided in. She closed her eyes and wept openly as the ship touched down, feeling true relief for the first time since the tragedy on Rilo.

When the ship stopped moving, she opened her eyes again and worked off the confining space helmet, letting her hair spill out. For a brief moment, she panicked not knowing how to open the ship's canopy, but to her relief, it slid back on its own. Poking her head up she looked down to see several Drule soldiers surrounding the ship, all of their faces obscured by the headgear they wore. All except for one rather chubby, platinum haired man, who was looking up at her and the ship with a very pleased looked on his face. She found him familiar, given she'd seen him in her village on Rilo – he'd been the one who helped her people train to defend themselves and her heart swelled with joy. He was a true friend. He hadn't forgotten her people after all! Of course, the idea that he only cared about the ship and not a whit about her ever entered her mind. She was too taken by the emotion of the moment to consider that she might be a mere pawn, being used and manipulated to Nerok's advantage.

"Friend," his voice boomed up at her. "Come down here so that you may be rewarded for your service to the Drule Empire."

Keira felt claustrophobic inside the small jet fighter's cockpit and was more than happy to comply, that is, after a brief struggle to climb down.

No sooner did her booted feet hit the smooth metal floor of the hangar, than Keira was off, dashing toward Nerok. Nearby Drule guards were unsettled by her sudden movements and raised their pistols slightly, but lowered them immediately at the subtle wave of Nerok's hand. However, not even he was prepared for the girl's next act, which was to fling herself arms wide at him and engulf him in an embrace.

She didn't seem to mind the fact that Nerok simply stood there stiffly, not returning her gesture and in fact, looking rather uncomfortable. "Oh thank you," she sobbed into his chest, her words slightly muffled.

When it was clear the girl might be content to cling to him for eternity, Nerok awkwardly took her by the upper arms and plied her off of him. She seemed unfazed, her dark moist eyes staring up at him, filled with gratitude and relief. "Eh, well yes, you will receive a great reward for what you have done."

Keira blinked, the idea having never truly crossed her mind. Hurting her captors and gaining her freedom was all she'd been in it for. She knew she should say something else to this great man, but her mind failed to find fitting words – it merely silently berated her for continuing to gape up at the man with her jaw slack.

"You," Nerok barked at a nearby soldier. "Escort our guest to fitting quarters. Make sure she's given anything she desires."

Keira took a step back and bowed slightly to show her appreciation to Nerok Getting out of that wretched Alliance suit and getting some food sounded good to her. The soldier walked briskly to Keira's side and waited for her to follow his lead.

Nerok barely seemed to notice for he continued to ease back into his element as he ordered around those in the room who were swarming the stolen ship like ants on a sweet treat. "Analyze this thing quickly," Nerok ordered, "and when you've taken all the information you can from it – destroy it."

Keira walked out of the hangar with the soldier, a new spring in her step as she thought about how the Alliance would soon trouble none of them any longer.

* * *

Outside, the battle raged. Luckily, the reinforcements from the base helped just enough to keep the tide from turning for the worst for the Alliance – though the losses on both sides were reaching staggering proportions. There were more Drule fighters in the air than Jeff had ever seen in one place in his life – they'd come prepared for this. But they all knew they had to get Ginger's ship back, and the only way to do that was to fight their way into the Drule command ship where the fighter jet had been guided to.

Cric's voice came cracking over the intercom echoing Jeff's thoughts. His and Cliff's teams were to try to get Ginger's ship back while his team tried to clear a path and keep the robeast Nerok had just launched at bay. Jeff knew it was a fight against time for the Sea Team's Aqua Fighter could only do so much against a robeast of that massive size. They couldn't fail in bringing Ginger's ship back.

With a look of renewed determination etched on his face, Jeff brought his ship into a deep dive directly toward the Drule command ship – and again, seemingly forgetting about Ginger who had to hang onto the back of Jeff's chair to keep from being flung about the cockpit. It wasn't easy, and they took a few hits, but just as Jeff hoped, his teammates and Cliff's team helped clear a path for him.

"We're goin' in," he announced as he trained his ship's lasers on the docking bay door of the massive Drule vessel. Firing, the lasers tore a gaping hole in the side of ship, taking out most of the outer bay door.

Jeff fought to keep his ship steady as it endured more assaults from those fast and deadly Drule Purple Raider ships. Finally, he'd reached the relative if temporary calm of the inside of the command ship, landing near an interior door that would lead to the docking bay. Glancing at his radar, he saw his teammates and the Land Team were close behind.

"We're in, Cric. Keep 'em off our backs for a minute will ya?"

Cric's worried countenance filled Jeff's telescreen. "We'll try."

Turning to Ginger, Jeff asked, "You ready?"

Ginger nodded.

"We'll go on foot. If we blast our way in with this thing, we'll risk destroying your ship," he explained as they prepared to disembark. "Stick close to me," he added. "We didn't exactly knock softly, so the place is probably going to be swarming with Drules."

"Okay," Ginger replied as she jumped down from the ship and drew her laser pistol.

They both turned as the other teams arrived and waited for them to join up.

Jeff paused before he opened the interior door, and looked back at the rest of the Air and Land teams. "Ginger and I will try to get to her ship – the rest of you, cover us."

His request met with solemn nods, Jeff slapped the door release and it slid open.

Sure enough, Ginger's ship was docked within – and it was heavily guarded. The intruders were noticed immediately and a hail of laser fire ensued. The Teams fanned out and did their best to clear a path for Jeff and Ginger.

After an exhaustive firefight, they finally made some headway, inching closer to their stolen vehicle. It wasn't without a close call or two, but so far, nobody on their side was mortally wounded. The same could not be said for the Drules.

A few Drules, however, retreated back into the ship and Jeff had no doubt they'd return tenfold and freshly armed, so he knew they had to work quickly. When he and Ginger finally reached the fighter plane and worked their way up to the open cockpit, he was dismayed to see the electronics had been tampered with, having been partly dismantled. Keira was nowhere in sight.

"Try to fire it up," he told Ginger, hoping in vain it would at least be sky worthy enough to get it out of there.

Ginger took her place in the pilot's seat and almost immediately noticed something out of place. Reaching down, she plucked an alien device out from under the main control panel.

Jeff snatched the item out of her hand and looked it over with contempt. He figured this was the little piece of trouble that made it so hard to regain control of the ship and also how Keira managed to "pilot" the ship. He wasn't sure who he was angrier with – Keira or the spy behind all her mischief. Jeff was going to toss the item away in disgust but thought better of it at the last minute, thinking it would benefit them later to analyze the technology and maybe modify all of Voltron's components to counter it so that the Drules couldn't pull a stunt like this ever again. Not to mention it might yield clues as to their spy's identity.

His attention turned back to Ginger's effort to start the ship, and dishearteningly, to no avail. He supposed it was too much to hope for given the condition of the vehicle and he feared they had no time for repairs. He was considering towing her back to the Explorer, when he got an urgent message from Cric over his portable communicator. It was not going well outside against the Robeast, and Cric's team was taking on considerable damage. They needed Voltron.

Ginger had heard Cric's pleas as well and looked up at Jeff with a look of hopelessness on her face. Jeff knew how she felt but they had to try – if they towed her back and waited for the repairs on the Explorer, they risked losing the Sea Team as it would simply all take too long. Turning, he spotted the rest of his team on the ground keeping a watch for more Drules. Among them, he saw who he was looking for – the small, bespectacled member of his crew, Chip. The guy was a whiz at electronics and if anyone could jerry rig the ship to fly in a pinch, it'd be him. He was their only chance.

"Chip!" Jeff called down. "We need you up here, now."

Chip complied, scurrying up into the cockpit. "Yeah, chief?"

"Think you can do something with this to get her in the sky?" Jeff asked hopefully, gesturing to the trashed compartment and instrument panel. He wasn't encouraged by Chip's crestfallen expression. "You gotta try, little buddy. Cric's hurtin' out there."

Chip looked grim, but determined. "I'll give it a shot. Cover me."

"Oh," Jeff added as an afterthought, "check it out for any nasty surprises the Drules may have planted on it for us." He wasn't sure they'd have had time to booby-trap it, but with the Drules, one could never be too careful.

"Gee, thanks," Chip replied with notable sarcasm. "Move out of the way and give a guy room to work."

Ginger and Jeff climbed out of the cockpit and stood vigil on the nose of the ship, ready for the rush of Drule soldiers they were sure would come bursting in any minute. Jeff frowned as he saw several Land Team members, including Cliff, heading for the same door he'd saw the Drule soldiers retreat out of earlier.

"Cliff, what are you doing?" he asked into his communicator.

Cliff sounded almost apologetic in his reply. "Cinda doesn't want to leave without Keira," he explained into his own communicator. "So her and I and Modoch are going to see if we can locate her while you work on the ship."

"What!" Jeff shouted almost loud enough for Cliff to hear him without the communicator, as Ginger winced. "She chose her side, Cliff. I don't want you risking your neck for the likes of her."

"Sorry, Jeff," he replied. "But I have to agree with Cinda. To leave Keira with the Drules would be inhumane – we've got to try. She can't have known better."

Jeff's jaw tensed for he hated the idea of the risk at a time like this, but he could no longer pull rank over Cliff and so he was powerless to stop him. Everyone acted like Keira was this poor naïve thing when they had no way to know if she truly was. What if she knew full well what she was doing? Why didn't anyone ever consider that? Sure he felt bad for what happened to the girl's world, but enough was enough. "Just promise me you'll forget this crazy idea and get back here once we get Ginger's ship fixed. Cric needs us more than anyone else does," he said, resisting the urge to label Keira a traitor.

"Right," Cliff agreed before disappearing with the rest of the trio through the door.

* * *

Cric had one of his feelings again – a very bad, foreboding one this time. Deep down he knew the futility of the situation, even as he guided the smoking, limping Aqua Fighter back around for another go at the Robeast. It was like staring death itself in the face. Yet, it was not himself he felt sorry for, but his teammates who were along for the ride. He didn't doubt their allegiance to the Alliance and their will to fight was as strong as his, and yet he couldn't help but feel he should be sparing them such a horrible fate.

He gritted his teeth as they barreled down on the massive Robeast, its robotic and numerous tentacles flailing threateningly, and he hit it with the heaviest fire power they could muster. But once again, they barely made a dent in the beast. In fact, the only thing they succeeded in doing was getting themselves near enough to it to take another brutal beating from it. One of its tentacles struck out as the Aqua fighter passed, sending a shock through the entire ship.

This time, however, the tentacle ripped a gash into Lisa's ship, and as it did so, released a series of dart-like objects into her ship, including the cockpit. The sting of the shock was forgotten as Cric tried to keep in contact with Lisa, whose ship was so badly damaged in the assault he had trouble keeping her online. What concerned him more was Lisa's condition. She'd clearly been hit in the assault and was struggling to cope with her injuries. His first instinct was to get her back to the Explorer, but she refused. He understood why, of course. She knew as well as he did that if they retreated, the Robeast may turn its attention to the remaining teams in the command ship and as vulnerable as they were down there, they wouldn't stand a chance.

Cric closed his eyes and tried to not be overwhelmed by the hopelessness of it all. Hawkins, having witnessed the last incident from the Explorer urged Cric to bring his team in. But for the first time in his career in the Alliance he openly defied the order, and gained sudden insight into why Jeff had so often done the same.

"Team, are you with me?" he asked his comrades.

Even the suffering Lisa answered with heart and determination, and Cric knew why he loved the Alliance and their cause, bless their brave souls. None of them were willing to abandon their friends – not without giving it everything they had – even their own lives. Of course, he'd have to scrap what he was going to do next, which was to have his unit disengage at the last minute, for he was unsure if Lisa could effectively pilot on her own now. But, there was always plan B.

The Aqua Fighter made a wide arc as it turned to approach the deadly beast once more, and Cric made peace with the idea that it may be the last thing he ever did.

* * *

Back on Drule, Dorma paced by the desk in her brother's office, hoping his last ditch effort to reach some of the more reasonable council members after the meeting had adjourned was going well. She'd made up her mind that if this didn't buy him time and he had to follow through with being exiled on the desolate Dreska, she would not let him go alone. She would go with him.

The door to the office slid open, but instead of Hazar gliding through the opening, it was Viceroy Throk, and Dorma couldn't help but let her lip curl slightly in contempt. To think – at one time she actually fancied and admired that man. Nothing could be farther from the truth now. Not since she'd seen how Throk's selfishness took precedence above all things – even the safety and well being of the Drule citizens.

"What are you doing here? Where's Hazar?" she snapped at him, no attempt made to hide her contempt.

Throk's eyes raked over her from head to toe, and it sent a chill down Dorma's spine. "He's being shown to the launch bay in preparation for his vacation to Dreska, my dear Dorma."

His patronizing tone and sarcasm made Dorma's blood boil, and she balled her hands into tight fists at her side. "How dare you – get out!"

Amusement danced in Throk's eyes. "I always liked that about you, Dorma. You're so spirited."

She simply glared at him.

"However," he continued, "this is no longer Hazar's office so I think I'll stay where I please if you don't mind." He idly studied a nude statue near where he stood. "I have to admit, your brother is lacking in taste. I'll certainly have the place retooled."

Snarling, Dorma charged at Throk, though he easily stopped her fist from making contact with him.

"Such a temper, my dear. Too bad you never put that much energy into fighting the Alliance," Throk sneered, gripping her wrist with such force she couldn't help but wince and wimper. He finally let go, and Dorma rubbed the limb while holding her glare on Throk.

"I'll leave you to your new office, then," she relented, but with contempt evident in her voice. "I've got a ship to catch."

She wanted to dash out before Throk saw her tears, but he stopped her by pulling her close.

"My dear, why would you share in Hazar's cold and lonely fate when you could have all the warmth and luxuries your heart desires here…with me?" His eyes dropped to her chest, where her uniform exposed part of her cleavage and she detested the lustful tone in his voice. Throk was a handsome enough Drule, and yet the idea of him touching her in a sexual way made Dorma absolutely ill, and her threatening tears were forgotten. His face hovered dangerously close to hers now, and if he dared kiss her she would surely be sick. Ironically, in another time and era, she longed to please him and would have wholeheartedly welcomed the advances. How little she cared now about what he thought of her or whether he desired her or not.

"Pig," she spat, pushing away form his offending embrace. "I'd rather die than warm your bed again." Nothing but contempt burned in her heart for her former lover now.

It was Throk's turn to snarl as he backhanded her hard across the cheek. She stumbled back, reeling from the impact. "You stupid bitch," he shouted, as Dorma dabbed at the blood that began to form from the corner of her mouth. "Be careful what you wish for."

The stunning effect of the slap wore off quickly enough and Dorma regained her composure. She boldly brushed past Throk, determined to make it to Hazar without further incident. It crossed her mind that he might be drunk enough on his own power to forcibly have his way with her or even kill her, and despite the fact that she was a trained soldier she was unarmed at the moment – and strength for strength, she knew she was no match for Throk. And given the unfavorable light her family was currently in politically, she didn't doubt Throk could get away with crimes against her. She would have to swallow her pride and let this go – for now.

"Remember," Throk chided as she left, "you've picked the losing team. Even now, Nerok is finishing off the Voltron Force and has gained the secrets of Voltron. If Hazar was half the man you seem to think he is, he could have saved us a lot of time and energy doing the same a long time ago instead of stupidly trying to make peace. Just think of that while you're languishing on Dreska, cut off from your people, your heritage, and your glory."

Dorma paused for a moment, considering a tart comeback but quickly thought better of it. Arguing with a fool like Throk would waste time she didn't have not to mention tempt fate. And so, without a word, she left him there to gloat over his new office space and headed for the hangar where she knew Hazar would be preparing to leave Drule forever. And it was then when she dwelled on Hazar's fate and that of her people, that the tears came.

* * *

Cliff and his two teammates didn't get too far inside the command ship when they were met with a fresh batch of Drule soldiers who were storming down the hall toward them. Keeping low and close to the wall they returned fire as best they could, but Cliff knew they were outnumbered and would eventually have to retreat back to the hangar regardless of Cinda's feeling concerning Keira.

He was about to vocalize his concerns to Cinda and Modoch when Jeff came over his portable comm. He'd hoped it would be good news about the jet fighter, but instead it was more bad news. More Drules, it seemed, had stormed the hangar from another entrance and Jeff and his team – along with the remainder of the Land Team – were under heavy attack. What's worse, Jeff reported that all contact had been lost with Cric's team, though the Explorer still reported a visual on them. It wasn't good. It was, in fact, the tightest spot Cliff could recall them ever being in.

He motioned for his crew to retreat, and after what felt like an eternity and several laser fire singed close calls later, they'd fought their way back to the hangar where the others were. Rocky at least had the good sense to go back for his ship and roll it into the main hangar, where he began making fresh barbecue out of the Drules as they entered.

He took advantage of the extra cover to rush over to the fighter jet, where he spotted Jeff on the ground near the wing, his teammates sticking by the door and ensuring those Drules were held at bay. When he got closer, he saw who Jeff was standing over. Cliff couldn't help but gasp at the sight of Hutch, his teammate, lying on the ground with a gaping laser wound in his side.

"What the hell happened?" Cliff blurted, despite the obvious nature of what had taken place.

When Jeff turned to look at him, Cliff could see fresh tears in his eyes. "He was making sure Rocky could make it back to his ship and one lousy Drule got too close…"

Cliff swallowed hard. Hutch was writhing in pain and it didn't look good for him. It was the worst injury he'd ever seen on any of the Voltron Force members, and he hated to admit it, but he'd seen others with far less severe injuries not make it.

"We've got to get him back to the Explorer a.s.a.p." Cliff decided. "What about this thing?" he asked, gesturing at the jet fighter.

"Still a no-go," Jeff admitted with considerable aggravation. He knelt by Hutch, doing his best to stay the bleeding and patch the wound. Only a moment later all of them were startled by the roar of the jet fighters engine, with Chip's cry of triumph barely audible above the din.

Cliff looked up to see Ginger had Chip in a tight embrace, before gleefully taking her place in the cockpit.

Chip jumped down to ground level with the others. "It's not 100, but it'll do for now."

"Great," Jeff said with relief. "Tell the others to get ready to launch out of here. Cliff and I will get Hutch back to his ship."

They each took an arm and did their best to support Hutch without causing him any more pain. Cliff didn't like the glassy look in Hutch's eyes at all. He was going into shock and looking far too pale. "Don't worry, buddy," he said as they carried him. "We'll get you back to the Explorer and the doc will get you patched up in no time."

Hutch shook his head. "Cric…Voltron…"

Cliff and Jeff exchanged worried glances. They finally reached the Turbo Terrain Fighter, and eased Hutch into his ship. Despite assuring Hutch they wouldn't return to the Explorer, Cliff cast Jeff a look that said otherwise. Being combined in their sub-unit such that they were, Hutch wouldn't have a choice but Cliff felt it did no good to upset him, thus the fib. Before leaving, Cliff flipped Hutch's ship on auto pilot as they would have to separate just before docking at the Explorer, and at that point, he wasn't sure if Hutch would be lucid enough to pilot on his own.

"What a mess," Cliff muttered.

"Tell me about it," Jeff replied before they went their separate ways to take to the air.

Neither of them was prepared for the scene that greeted them in space, after fighting their way out of the Drule command ship. Cliff gasped when he located the Sea Team, its cohesive unit reduced to a fiery piece of wreckage plummeting through space with the Robeast in pursuit. "Jeff, we have to do something," Cliff shouted over the intercom.

But it was no use – they were too far away to be within an effective range. As much as he didn't want to see his friends snuffed out by the mechanical beast, Cliff found he couldn't take his eyes off the scene. The robeast produced some kind of spear, much like Voltron's own solar combat spear, and drove it skillfully at the Aqua Fighter. Contact appeared to be made squarely, and Cliff cried out in anger and despair, his cockpit lighting up with the energy of the impact.

* * *

Keira had just gotten settled into her room – which was much nicer and inviting than what she'd been given inside the Explorer – and was going to put in a request for something to eat when the ship rocked violently. She assumed the fighting was simply escalating outside until she overheard Nerok page her escort to his battle station – the Voltron Force had breached the ship.

"You, stay here," the soldier ordered before leaving.

She nodded numbly, hoping they'd protect her from them. However, as the minutes ticked away and the battles intensified outside the ship as well as inside, she wondered if she didn't just risk her neck only to be killed anyway. Keira paced about in the room and tried to take her mind off the situation but it was no good.

Against her better judgment, she ventured outside the room, and cautiously retraced her steps back to the hangar. It was quiet now as she neared the hangar, and that worried her. There in the hall, she stopped short. It was littered with dozens of Drule soldiers. Some of them writhing and moaning in pain, others not moving at all. She gasped, for she'd never seen such an aftermath of a battle and the gore and suffering that followed. Keira leaned back against the wall for a moment, feeling temporarily dizzy and nauseous from it all. Worst of all, she recognized one of the dead as the man who'd been her escort earlier.

She nearly jumped out of her oversized Alliance suit when a hand reached out and grasped at her leg. Looking down, she saw it was one of the injured that had crawled to her.

"Help," he gasped, in a nearly inaudible rasp.

She glanced around surprised nobody else had come to help the downed men. Kneeling down, she helped the young Drule work off his helmet. He was bruised and battered, but the most severe injury was some profuse bleeding from his upper leg. She was no medic, but she'd always heard pressure stayed the bleeding, so she decided that's the least she could do in the hopes that someone more qualified would show up soon. Keira felt bad when the man cried out in pain when she first applied pressure. Then they both sat there awkwardly, the only sounds being the man's ragged breaths and the groans of his comrades that still lived. She only looked down at her hands once, and felt sick again when she noticed the gloves she wore were already soaked bright red with blood.

By this time, Keira realized the Alliance must be gone already – it was far too quiet now for them to still be inside the ship. Though relieved at the notion, she felt strange to be in this predicament. She could think of nothing else to do to pass the time other than make small talk.

"I-I'm Keira," she started tentatively. "What's your name?"

The wounded soldier looked at her through half open eyes. "Sandu," he huffed between ragged breaths.

* * *

Jeff watched the Sea Team's demise with his jaw slack with disbelief. They had been too late!

A moment later, he realized the flash of energy was from the Sea Team separating into their units just in time and he exhaled with great relief. A grainy image of Cric's weary face flashed on Jeff's monitor.

"We can't hold out any longer. Let's form Voltron and finish this," Cric declared.

Jeff thought of Hutch and hesitated. Originally, he'd just planned to try to get out of there and retreat, but there were still a lot of Drule fighters about and that robeast was faster than most. The likelihood of being able to flee in the Explorer in one piece was slim. Cric was right, but he shuddered to think about it costing Hutch his life.

"How's Hutch?" Jeff asked of Cliff, after getting him on another channel.

"Not good," came Cliff's blunt reply. "He's fading in and out. We should take our chances and retreat before our stalling kills him."

Jeff didn't think Cric could look anymore stressed out until he overheard Cliff's comments. "Look," the alien replied with newfound determination. "We're all beat up too, and Lisa's not in great shape herself. She took a horrendous hit."

Jeff's eyes went wide and he fought the urge to blurt something in outrage.

"But," Cric continued, "trust me when I say this robeast is like none other we've dealt with before and it's not going to let anyone or anything retreat in one piece. Even if we did make it back to the Explorer, it'd cut that to ribbons, too. There's no other way. We have to risk it and form Voltron."

Cliff scoffed. "Bold of you, team leader, to take gambles with other people's lives."

Cric was visibly annoyed. "We don't have time to argue. Lisa's willing to take the chance and if I know Hutch, he wouldn't want to go out running from the Drules. While we've been chatting, the robeast has decided to attack the Explorer. Look!"

Sure enough, Jeff could see the beast nearing their interstellar home. The robeast operators must have thought the Sea Team was finished, too, and decided to mop up with the Explorer. Sadly, the Explorer's defenses were doing nothing to stave off the beast. Though it was clear Cliff still didn't entirely agree, he reluctantly separated his team's unit and used the autopilot to take over Hutch's ship as he was no longer responsive. Jeff didn't feel great about it either, but Cric was right. They had no choice, and if it were up to him, he'd have wanted them to stay on and fight.

The ships quickly gathered in their classic formation, stacking together to become a fighting force to be reckoned with.

* * *

The battle wasn't easy with injured teammates and damaged ships - and Voltron took a few good lumps. But once the Robeast was finally destroyed, the tide of the battle turned and Nerok eventually retreated. An almost typical victory had it not been such a precarious road to get there. Jeff sat with the others outside the sickbay in the Explorer with the others, the post-battle calm marred by worry for the two most injured teammates – Lisa and Hutch. At least Lisa was still aware after all was said and done. Hutch, however, was recovered from his vehicle no longer breathing. It didn't look good. There had been many times that Jeff felt like raking his knuckles across Hutch's jaw, but even so, he hated to see any of his teammates so bad off. The guy may be prone to shoot his mouth off, but his heart was almost always in the right place. Jeff just hoped they could save him.

Most of the Sea Team was in a nearby room getting treated for minor injuries, except for Cric, who Jeff noticed was farther down the corridor. He stood, arms clasped behind his back, as he stared out at the now-calm cosmos. Cric hadn't come out of it unscathed, and Jeff worried as to whether he'd been checked over for his injuries. Jeff was about to rise from the bench he occupied when he saw Cliff brush past and Jeff had a good idea where he was heading.

Jeff followed closely behind as Cliff strode up to Cric. For Cric's part, he didn't turn to greet either of them. "Nice job, team captain," Cliff snarled with obvious sarcasm. "Thanks to you, one of my guys is probably going to die. Just thought you might care to know, seems how I guess you didn't hear me out there when we could have actually saved him."

Jeff bristled. Not only was Cric a good friend that he knew never took such matters lightly, but he knew from experience it was no small matter having to make tough calls – many of them literally having life or death consequences. Jeff reached out and grabbed Cliff by the shoulder, just as it seemed Cliff was getting ready to strike the unresponsive Cric. "Hey!" he shouted. "What the hell?"

Cliff merely shrugged off Jeff's grip and stalked off, still obviously quite angry.

Jeff turned his attention back to Cric, who remained quiet and on the surface, unaffected. "Hey, he's just upset. For what it's worth, I would have done the same thing."

Cric was quiet a long moment before slowly turning to face Jeff. Jeff gulped, unable to remember his friend ever looking as tired, haggard and beat as he did in that moment. "If he dies…" Cric trailed off and shook his head as if trying to perish the thought from his mind.

Jeff placed his hands on Cric's shoulders in an effort to get him to look at him. "Listen, before we left that command ship, Hutch said he wanted to help you – that he wanted to stay and form Voltron, not come back here. I swear to you that he did. When he comes out of this, he'll tell you so himself," Jeff added reassuringly.

Cric broke away and shook his head once more. His voice broke and faltered as he spoke. "You know what? You can have this job back. I don't want it."

"You can't let Cliff get to you. You're doing fine," Jeff countered.

"Fine?" Cric nearly shouted, his voice rising. "This is not fine." The others loitering in the hall were drawn to the commotion. They watched and whispered to one another as the two team leaders hashed it out.

"You're not the first guy to second guess a command after the fact," Jeff insisted. "My last decision sparked the annihilation of an entire planet – try having that on your conscience."

Before they could continue, Hawkins emerged from the sick bay. Jeff turned, trying to read the expression on his face but came up with nothing given the Commander always seemed to carry himself with such a grave seriousness. It seemed forever that he and his teammates sat rapt with anticipation.

"You can come in and see them now," he finally began. "But Hutch – though they got him breathing and stabilized – is still unconscious and we'll be heading back to the base where he can get more intensive care. Don't get your hopes up," he added cryptically.

Jeff glanced back at Cric, who looked positively crushed by the remark. "Come on," Jeff urged him gently.

Cric didn't have time to protest, for Hawkins approached desiring private council with him. Jeff hoped the Commander wouldn't be too hard on Cric and reluctantly left them to join his friends in visiting the injured.

On one side of the room lain Hutch, hooked to machines that did his breathing. Jeff was struck by how pale he was – like a ghost. Marvin, his best friend on the force, along with the girls gravitated toward Hutch.

Jeff smiled when he overheard Ginger as she took Hutch's hand and gave it a good squeeze. "You big jerk. You better wake up."

"Yeah," Marvin added, joining in on the effort to try to keep things light and hopeful. "You still owe me money from that card game the other night. I did not cheat!"

Hutch lay eerily still and unresponsive.

Jeff turned his attention to Lisa, who lain in another bed nearby. She simply appeared to be sleeping peacefully, an assortment of medicated fluids were being fed to her intravenously. The visible parts of her body above the sheets – her arms – held the evidence of the beating she took. Her helmet must have spared her head from the worst of it – only minor bruising and abrasions were visible there.

Debbie, the lab tech and sometime nurse, must have noticed Jeff's pained expression. "She'll be fine," Debbie reassured him softly. "Whatever that robeast flung at her passed completely through, and missed any vital organs. And it didn't seem poisonous. She's quite lucky."

Jeff nodded slowly. But it pained him more than he was prepared for to see her that way. Truly, he should be far more concerned for the more gravely injured Hutch. But then, it wasn't him Jeff had a soft spot for, either. He wished he could have been there when she was first brought in, to reassure her. It was tempting to make the gesture now, but he perhaps thought it best to let her rest.

It was then that Professor Page entered the sick bay, and Jeff remembered he'd wanted to have a talk with him. He had that device they pulled off Ginger's ship for Page to analyze.

"Whaddaya make of this?" Jeff asked without formal greeting, presenting the small, black electronic device to the Professor.

Page plucked the item from Jeff and scanned it curiously. "Doesn't look like anything the Drules came up with. Where did it come from? Their ship?"

"Wrong," Jeff replied. "From Ginger's." Jeff was about to explain more when it occurred to him that Page could be in league with their spy – or even **be** the spy. At this point, there was no such thing as being too paranoid. With that thought, he quickly snatched the item back from Page and, muttering some unintelligible excuse, brushed past him and out he door, leaving Professor Page baffled.

There was only one person Jeff could really trust outside his own team. And that was Hawkins. As Jeff stalked down the hall to search him out, he knew they'd gotten rid of one problem – Keira. Now it was time to get to the root of their larger problem – the spy. And Jeff wouldn't stop until he or she was found out, if he had to do all the sleuthing himself.

* * *

Nerok should be annoyed he lost another robeast and another battle – and that the Alliance had recovered their ship. Indeed, his crew assumed the same as they walked on eggshells while going about their post-battle tasks.

But he wasn't.

They'd caused a lot of damage this time - physical damage to Voltron's components, his pilots and even gained some of his secrets. His spy had already reported two pilots had serious injuries and that one would likely not recover. Nerok's mind swirled with delicious ways to exploit it all. And his first step was to order the spy to ensure that pilot didn't live. He knew the Alliance was foolish enough not to keep trained back-up pilots for Voltron on hand, so paranoid were they to trust people with the workings of such a weapon as Voltron. It would hopefully be their undoing. For once he regrouped and dropped off his injured for fresh troops, they were in for the battle of their lives.

There would be no mercy.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	8. There's No Other Way Part II

**Winning Days**

Book III: There's No Other Way, Part II

By Purrsia Kat

In the crowded sick bay aboard Nerok's command ship, Keira sat with the soldier she'd helped, while Nerok himself took stock of the injured. She wanted to help, and offering even her limited nursing skills was better than sitting in her quarters doing nothing. From what she understood, they needed to refuel and drop off the injured in exchange for fresh troops before they could be ready to fight the Alliance again. She was glad the Alliance seemed to be in the same situation and that there was some reprieve from all the fighting. But she also had the feeling this was merely the eye of the storm.

When Nerok came around to where they sat, Keira was sure he'd select Sandu as one of the men to release on leave to give the lad time to heal. To her surprise, Nerok gave the young soldier a cold once-over before simply stating, "You're staying."

She blinked, as if she was sure she hasn't heard correctly – less injured men were granted a leave, after all. Keira then looked to Sandu, who merely sat unmoving on his cot, his eyes blazing with what Keira would almost swear was a searing hatred for Nerok. She could definitely sense a tension between the two Drules and it made the hairs on her neck stand on end.

She'd no idea what got into her, but she felt compelled to speak up. "Pardon my intrusion, sir, but this man has quite a serious leg injury. I think he should be allowed to rest with the others."

Keira recoiled when Nerok fixed his glare on her and immediately regretted saying a thing. However, with effort his expression morphed into one of infinite kindness and patience. "I appreciate your – expert advice, but Sandu is very valuable and capable. We need him."

Keira offered a weak smile, still quite uneasy seeing the Drule commander in such a mood.

"Right, Sandu?" Nerok continued, turning his stare on the soldier who still would not look up at his commanding officer.

"Yes, sir," was all the man mumbled as a response.

Keira frowned as she watched Nerok move on to the other men in the infirmary. She didn't know what just went on, but she planned to grill Sandu about it when she had a chance!

* * *

Meanwhile on the Explorer, the three team leaders sat before the desk in Commander Hawkins' office quarters. Cric was seated on one end, looking worn and beaten, Jeff sat in the middle studying Hawkins curiously, and Cliff sat on the other side of him with his arms crossed defensively with an angry expression to match.

Hawkins surveyed the men in charge of his exploration unit and fought the urge to sigh heavily. Cric, for one, was not handling the task of leading all the teams very well. Perhaps he should have known it would be too stressful for a man as tuned in to things as Cric. Their mission couldn't be any more off track at the moment. He had to motivate these men by giving them hope and a clear directive. Morale was always so important at times such as these and Hawkins could tell he had his work cut out for him in that arena when it came to this trio. The events of the last 24 hours couldn't have shaken them more. He had to choose his words carefully.

"Men," he began from his seat behind the desk, which was still strewn with paperwork and no doubt, an even greater back log of those form letters to let anxious mothers back on Earth and other Alliance planets know that their worst fears were realized thanks to the last bloody battle. "First I'd like to commend you on the recovery of Ginger's ship." Hawkins shot Cliff a warning glare when he could tell a protest was on the man's tongue, before he continued. "All units of Voltron that were damaged in the last battle are being worked on around the clock and should be good as new in no time."

He looked pointedly at Cliff and went on. "I know that's probably the least of your worries. I know you're concerned for your hurt teammates. But you all did what you had to do and I'm proud of you. Sometimes you have to risk a few to save the many. And it's never an easy decision, I know." He looked to Cric with reassurance when he spoke that last bit, though Cric seemed as though he hadn't noticed. "The good news is, Lisa is recovering and should be fine with time to heal. Hutch is still touch and go, but I think he'll make it." Hawkins knew the last part was more or less a lie. He actually thought quite the opposite, but there was no good in saying so. Give them hope, he told himself, and pray for a miracle that would save Hutch.

Cliff grunted and muttered at that remark, which earned him an elbow in the side courtesy of Jeff. Hawkins cleared his throat as a warning and rose to his feet. "When we were all called together on this exploration mission, we were told we could meet up with unknown or hostile forces throughout the journey and so we were also trained in combat and given Voltron to give us a fighting chance. This constant Drule threat and bombardment was more than any of us bargained for, I'm sure. It certainly has delayed our efforts to find a new world. I'm sure the Galaxy Alliance wouldn't still have us out here if they didn't think that mission was still of utter importance."

It was Jeff's turn to get agitated. "Then why don't we just take care of 'em once and for all, sir? We always wait to be attacked. Let's just –"

Hawkins would have none of it, and interrupted the Air Team leader. "You know why, Jeff. We're an exploration unit first, and a defensive unit second. We don't go around the universe picking fights."

Jeff leapt to his feet to meet Hawkins on the level. "That's just it, sir. They started it. Now let's finish it."

"That's the most sensible thing I ever heard you say," Cliff chimed in. Cric merely sighed and shook his head sadly.

"Jeff…" Hawkins said, his voice full of warning for the young officer not to push it.

"Well, can we at least start by finding the rat on our own ship?" Jeff asked bluntly. He chucked the device that came off Ginger's ship onto Hawkins' desk. "Maybe that'll give you some clues. It came from under the console on Ginger's ship which I figure is how the Drule's got control of it and Keira got away."

"I'm not having this discussion with you here, Jeff." Hawkins' tone was one of more than just warning, it was of the end-of-discussion variety. "Sit down."

Jeff sank back into his seat, looking beyond baffled. Hawkins wished he could explain why, but for now the boys would have to remain a little in the dark. He wasn't sure his talk had done a shred of good, but it would have to do.

"You're dismissed," he told the trio. As they filed out, he sank back into his chair and surveyed his desk with a weary set of eyes. They rested on the item Jeff had left, and Hawkins picked it up to get a closer look. Perhaps this would be the key to finding the spy.

* * *

Tucked away on a desolate and distant satellite, Hazar walked the halls of his new home. It was full of the tastes of home he was accustomed to – except when he looked out the window at the forbidden landscapes and the constant rain of space debris that rained down on the little moon. This was why his people had built the outpost into the side of a mountain – it would take a substantial and precise meteor strike to take it out. Though there was little doubt in Hazar's mind that the Supreme Council would love for the odds to play out on that, at least now that he was exiled there.

He could hear the footfalls of his sister close behind, and he wished she'd never come along. This wasn't her fight. He veered off into a comfortable looking lounge and hoped to rest his mind – and maybe stop obsessing about what might be happening on Drule – but it seemed Dorma wanted to talk. She'd been quiet and pensive on the flight over, so he supposed this was inevitable. He just wished it didn't have to be right now.

"Hazar…" She spoke his name softly, gently.

He turned and really looked at her for the first time since their rushed departure and noticed the mark on her cheek which had bruised into a dark, ugly blue, with old blood dried around it.

"Wha –?" his voice cut off, choked back by the anger in realizing where a mark like that would come from.

Dorma looked a bit shocked for a moment, but soon her hand flew up to her face to cover the offending bruise.

"Who did this to you?" he demanded. Hazar stood before her, gently moving her hand out of the way. His scowl deepened. The Drules were not without their honor, and any man or soldier who would strike a woman so was the lowest creature.

Dorma sighed, resigned. "Throk," she said flatly.

Hazar wasn't all that surprised but the sound of that man's name only stoked his burning hatred. He was taken aback by the look of sheer deviousness that crossed Dorma's face.

"Don't worry," she almost purred. "He'll get his."

He didn't like it when Dorma talked that way. Sometimes she was too headstrong for her own good and he feared she would wind up worse than in exile one day for crossing the wrong Drule. "Dorma, I—"

Before the conversation could go any further, Captain Twila entered the room without notice or introduction. "There you are," she announced. "I saw your fleet come in."

The petite, attractive Drule Captain – one of few females to rise to such ranks in the Drule military – had deceptive stature. She, as he well knew, was tougher than most of her male peers. He wondered what she was doing on Dreska. He doubted she'd make the trip just to gloat about his demotion. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm on my way back from a little acquisition mission – which was a success, I might add," she began.

Dorma looked skeptical. "So when can we start moving our people to their new world?" Her tone was laced with sarcasm, and judging by the snarl that curled Twila's lip, hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Not quite, honey. But we'll have plenty of fuel for ships and robeasts. Not so good for living, but great for strip mining – and captured by yours truly."

Dorma snorted with derision. "I'm sure that'll be a great comfort to our starving and desperate people as they burn in the hellfire of our dying world."

Twila took a few rapid and threatening steps toward Dorma. "I'm sure all your making nice with the Alliance has gotten them a new world. Oh wait – it hasn't!"

Hazar sensed the coming catfight and decided it best to step in. "Ladies, let's not fight among ourselves. You still haven't answered my question, Twila. What brings you out here to Dreska?"

Twila backed down, but both women were still visibly agitated. "Repair and restock. I've orders to be in charge of the second wave to support Nerok's next attack on the Alliance. I hear they really have them by the balls. One member of the Voltron Force is as good as dead, so one more strike ought to rid us of those pests for good."

Dorma gasped, but Hazar silently watched as Twila turned on her heel and left. She paused near the door, glancing back over her shoulder as she spoke. "It's too bad you had to take the peace crap so seriously Hazar. We could have shared this glory together."

Hazar felt his jaw tighten but said nothing until she was gone. A silence fell in the room until finally he broke it with a shocking statement of his own. "Perhaps she's right. Maybe it would have been better just to help them get rid of the Alliance so we can all concentrate on what's really important."

How furious Dorma looked struck him. "You can't waffle now. If you don't believe in the cause, who'll follow you?"

"Follow me?" Hazar echoed. "Please, Dorma, tell me where these masses are that are ready to make peace? I pretty sure all of them are standing in this room."

Dorma moved close to him and lowered her voice. "More than you think agree with you, Hazar. There're rumors of a rebellion-"

"No!" Hazar interrupted sharply. "No matter what, you know I don't believe that's ever the way to bring change, Dorma. Treason against the Empire is punishable by death and as a man of honor I can't be a part of that. If such a thing were to fail, the amount of blood that would be on my hands is intolerable. I will not lead them like sheep to slaughter. There has to be another way."

"There is no other way," Dorma pleaded in desperation. "You tried your way and look where it got you. Those animals can't be reasoned with, so they must be dealt with. They all think the Alliance is the enemy, but wake up Hazar. Our leadership is our own worst enemy."

Hazar shook his head vehemently. "Yet, I am still alive another day to try again. I don't want to hear any more about it Dorma. Now let me be," he added before storming out of the lounge.

* * *

As Nerok's fleet neared another moon where the Drules had a supply base, Keira waited patiently in her quarters. She'd long since shed the Alliance uniform she'd arrived in and was once again in the lovely dress she'd taken just before her world fell apart. She wondered as she watched the moon loom closer out the window, if the Drules would help her find the other survivors – and hopefully before the Alliance did. She also hoped they'd drop her off here. She longed to trek on solid ground and she certainly didn't want to be around when another battle broke out.

A Drule with a food tray entering her room took her attention from her thoughts. She recognized him immediately as the one who called himself Sandu. Keira rushed to him, as it was difficult for him to limp along and balance the tray simultaneously, and she again marveled at Nerok's decision not to let this soldier rest.

"Let me get that for you," she offered.

He smiled half-heartedly in return. "Thank you," he muttered before turning to leave.

"Wait," Keira called, stopping him though he didn't look at her. "I wanted to talk to you." She sat the tray down on a nearby desk before coming around so that she stood before the young man. She studied his brooding face for a long moment before continuing. "I'm worried about that leg," she said, gesturing to the bandaged appendage. "I don't know how he expects you to fight like that."

Slowly, Sandu looked up from the floor to meet her gaze. "Why do you care?" he finally asked, flatly.

Keira was baffled the man would take caring as a puzzling emotion to show. "Your people," she explained, "saved me from the Alliance after they destroyed my people's planet and nearly everyone with it. They tried to help us and now I'd like to help you if I can. It's the least I can do."

Sandu blinked, as if he were confused. "W-where are you from again?"

"Rilo," she answered. "Were you a part of the operation that tried defending it?"

Sandu's eyes grew wide and she swore she saw something akin to terror in them. "I – I have to go," he blurted, but his injury kept him from going fast enough for her to not get in his way.

Keira's pulse quickened as she stood between him and the door. This was strange and nothing about this conversation was making any sense to her but her gut twisted as if she knew something was terribly wrong. "Wait, what do you know? Please tell me!"

"Lady, just get yourself out of here," he said, his voice thin with fear. "You've been lied to. You were better off with the Alliance. I know I was."

Keira's jaw dropped and her mind reeled. After the initial shock wore off, anger took its place. He was the liar. Why, she saw with her own eyes how the Drules came to help her people prepare for the Alliance's inevitable invasion and how that giant robot tore her planet to ribbons. She was on their ship, suffering their insincere gestures of kindness and if not for the help of the one person on that ship who had the courage to warn her about what they were really up to, she'd never have escaped! She was lucky to leave with her life.

Sandu tried to push past her, but Keira moved to halt him again. "Lady, let me past. If I'm not back at my post soon…"

"No, wait. What are you talking about? You know something about Rilo. Tell me!" she demanded.

Sandu grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her a bit. "Don't you get it? Nerok planned the whole thing out to make you **think** the Alliance are the bad guys. But I can tell you they're not. I didn't believe it until I was captured by them and saw who they really are and what they're really after. There's a lot of corruption and propaganda in this Empire, so believe me, I understand how easy it is to be taken in and get confused. But do yourself a favor and get away from Nerok and his whole sick crew. He's the worst of the bunch."

Keira broke away from his grip and took a few fearful steps backward. She still couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You lie! If it's so awful here why are you still around? Why didn't you stay with the Alliance, then?"

"Because, I was hunted down like an animal by my own people, shot down, dragged back to a prison camp for 'fraternizing with the enemy' and when they were desperate for warm bodies to fly their planes in this stupid war, I got 'invited' back into the war machine. If I defect or refuse orders, anybody I care about back home pays the price. Any more questions?"

Keira wanted to speak, but her voice and her thoughts failed her. She stumbled back another step or two and barely noticed as Sandu gimped past her and out the door.

She didn't know how long she stood there looking shell shocked, but her mind just couldn't believe what he said was true. Because if it was, she couldn't live with herself for what she'd done.

* * *

Days had passed with no real improvement in Hutch's condition. Jeff was once again making his rounds to visit him and Lisa. She at least was doing much better although there was still a lot of pain to work through. When he arrived, she was sleeping peacefully. The rhythmic cadence of the vent across the room keeping breath in Hutch's lungs was the only sound.

He took a seat beside her bed, and gently cupped his hand over one of hers. She stirred a little, but went on with her slumber. He tried not to worry too much about Hutch or when the next inevitable attack would be, and sitting with Lisa helped ease his mind somehow. As if knowing she'd be okay gave him enough hope to get through the day.

Glancing across the room, he noticed Marvin slumped in a chair on the other side of Hutch's bed and he appeared to be sleeping. It was no surprise that Marvin was such a fixture at Hutch's side. The two were teammates and best friends. Cliff liked to joke that Marvin was the only one on the force who could stand Hutch for more than five minutes, and it may be true. Regardless, the influx of visitors and well wishes for his recovery was a testament to the tight knit team they were, personal differences aside.

Commander Hawkins entering the room broke Jeff from his thoughts. "There you are," Hawkins commented, keeping his voice low as not to disturb Lisa. "I thought I might find her here."

Jeff quickly stood, more than a little self-conscious about the affectionate way which he'd been holding Lisa's hand. He tried to play it off as casual as possible without getting flustered. "Sir?" he asked, snapping a crisp salute.

"Good news. The Alliance is sending a specialist in to look at Hutch and also, a replacement pilot in the meantime," Hawkins noted casually.

Jeff's jaw went slack. "Sounds like they're writing Hutch off as a goner."

Hawkins shook his head. "No, more like being practical. We don't know how long it'll take Hutch to be well enough to fly again and I'm sure you know as well as I do we'll need Voltron sooner than later. So be prepared to do some newbie training soon."

_Great_, Jeff thought solemnly. The idea of a new pilot irritated him for some reason and he was anything but looking forward to it. Maybe it was the idea that any one of them could just be replaced so easily, or maybe he didn't fancy the idea of an interloper into their tight knit group. Either way, he didn't like it.

"Are you sure it's someone we can trust with the secrets of Voltron?" Jeff asked. He wasn't trying to be a smartass and hoped he didn't come off as such, but it was a valid question given their current struggle against espionage.

"Oh, I think we can trust this one," Hawkins replied. "He used to pilot a part of the Voltron that operates in the Denubian Galaxy. Sven's been put on an express shuttle from Pollux to come over here and give us a hand."

"I remember that guy from Academy." Knowing this, Jeff felt much less aggravated about the newcomer. And at least he had some kind of experience with technology such as Voltron was comprised – it'd just be a matter of introducing him to this slightly different model. He also remembered somewhat the reason why Sven no longer was on the Lion Voltron team on Arus, thanks to letters Chip shared from his brother Pidge, who was also on that team. "What about Lisa?" Jeff asked with sincerity.

Hawkins glanced down at the sleeping figure. "She should be cleared for flight soon enough. She was lucky. But speaking of trust…" Hawkins trailed off as he produced the device that had been removed from Ginger's jet.

Jeff regarded his commanding officer with curiosity as the man leaned in closer and lowered his voice even more. "I didn't want to discuss this earlier because who knows who's listening in on us and with what."

Jeff nodded in understanding. Hawkins continued. "This thing, it's marked with Drule markings on the outside, but when you look at the guts – the electronics inside – you can tell it's made by someone who had Alliance training in engineering and electronics. In fact, it's so advanced that there's only a few known people on board this ship that has that kind of training. Not to mention they knew exactly how to tap into the fighter jet's computer system…"

Jeff blinked and remained silent a moment while the information sank in. He always assumed the spy was someone who lurked unseen – a stow-away of some sort causing trouble. More to the point, he realized he'd imagined the spy as a Drule, who were always the enemy in his eyes. But if he caught what he Commander was saying correctly, he seemed to think it was one of their own. "Okay," Jeff said quietly, "let's round 'em up and find out who's responsible. Then give him a traitor's send off before he can feed the Drules anymore classified documents."

"That's the other thing," Hawkins said as if he'd just remembered something. "That information Keira managed to swipe?"

"Yeah…"

"Fakes. Newley moved the real documents on his last trip out when we first were sure something was going on around here as a precaution, but filled the cabinets up with fake but official looking stuff hoping to catch the spy in the act. We got Keira instead, as you know but – it's nice to know the Drules will likely be wasting valuable time and resources building weaponry to take advantage of Voltron's supposed 'weaknesses'."

Jeff's face broke into a wide grin. He should have known the Commander was on top of the situation. He always was.

"In that way, her escape may work to our advantage. Though I shudder to think what's going to happen to her once she's no longer useful to them."

Jeff scowled. "She made her choice," he muttered. Though not wishing to get into a debate with Hawkins about how she just didn't know any better, he couldn't bring himself to defend her. Not after her repeated failure to get that they're not the ones she should be afraid of. Forgiving her also didn't make the damage she tried to do hurt them any less. And Hutch – he may die because of her stealing that ship. No, he wasn't too concerned about Keira.

"I already briefed Cliff and Cric but the three of you need to keep this quiet for now. We need to gather a little more intelligence until we can narrow down the suspects and make our move."

Jeff was happy that Hawkins didn't seem to want to argue in Keira's defense either. "Right," Jeff replied.

"Until then, remain on high alert," Hawkins said before making an exit.

Jeff stood there a moment, pondering who might be the on board troublemaker. He had a few ideas, himself.

"Hey."

Marvin's sleepy voice startled Jeff out of his reverie. "Hey, you're awake. C'mon, let's go get some coffee."

Marvin looked back at Hutch's still form and hesitated. Jeff clapped the slight man on the back and steered him toward the door. "You gotta eat and drink sometime. It'll be all right. Give yourself a break."

Marvin apparently couldn't think of a reason not to relent and let Jeff lead him out the door.

"I have some good news," Jeff continued, suddenly in a truly good mood for the first time in a long while. "Remember Sven?"

Their voices faded as they walked down the hall, and when they no longer could be heard, a figure emerged from the shadows, a syringe gripped in one hand. "Time to say goodbye, Hutch," the man uttered with obscene pleasure before slipping into the room Jeff and Marvin had just left.

* * *

Nothing that happened on his ship got past Nerok. Of course, he'd viewed the spy cam tape that had recorded Sandu's conversation with Keira. Now both were a danger to his plans. Keira had wanted off the ship at their last stop, but that was denied. And though she pretended loyalty to the Drules, Nerok could tell the girl was nervous. He had her every move monitored, as well as Sandu – the fool would pay for his outburst.

Everything was ready to go and he felt good about his chances, as his fleet traveled to meet with Twila's to deliver the deathblow to the Alliance. But those two…they were trouble, and it wouldn't do to keep them around any longer. Any perverse pleasure he got out of making Sandu miserable would have to be forsaken for the good of his plans against the Alliance.

Before he could make up his mind on a fitting way to dispose of the pair, a soldier burst into Nerok's office quarters without so much as permission. "Sir, emergency."

Nerok arched a brow, annoyed at the rude lack of respect. If the so-called 'emergency' didn't warrant the lack of protocol, Nerok would have fun with this soldier as well. Lack of respect and loyalty to him were bones of contention for Nerok. "I'm listening," he said coolly.

"Twila – she reached the Explorer fleet before you and has already attacked."

"What!" Nerok shrieked. _That glory-stealing bitch!_ That wasn't the plan at all. He, for one, would never understand why the high council even allowed women to lead fleets. They were the worst when it came to knowing their true place.

The nervous soldier hesitated. "What shall we do, sir?"

Nerok sat a while longer in quiet fury. "Nothing. Turn the fleet around."

"W-what, sir?"

The soldier cowered under the weight of Nerok's glare. He spoke slowly, purposefully as he repeated himself. "Turn the fleet around. We'll land on nearby planet Phynos."

"Yes, sir."

The soldier couldn't leave fast enough as Nerok continued to stew in his loathing for Twila. He'd leave her out to dry. That would teach her. In the meantime, a smile slowly spread across his face as an idea began to form. An idea that would again put the Voltron Force in an impossible position **and** get rid of his little pair of treasonous troublemakers.

* * *

Moments later, the laser fire from Twila's attack fleet rocked the Explorer and Lisa was jarred out of her restful sleep. It took her some time to focus on what was going on. The emergency lights were all that illuminated the room, and it was hard to see much. She could, however, make out the silhouette of Hutch lying on the bed across the way. But her eyes widened in fear as another silhouette caught her eye – that of a man standing over Hutch and it looked as though he was tampering with Hutch's IV line. She couldn't make out his face, but he wasn't dressed in a doctor's lab coat and her intuition told her he didn't belong there.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

Instead of answering, the man ducked down as though to further obscure his face before dashing out of the room. Seconds later, the monitor keeping tabs on Hutch's vital signs began to blare an alarm signaling an arrest. Lisa was horrified. Where was everyone?

Before she could struggle out of bed, several lab-coated physicians stormed into the room and began working on Hutch. "Wait," she pleaded. "I saw someone do something to him." She was dismayed to know they hadn't heard her. When next she tried to inform them, she was drowned out by an announcement for the Voltron Force to launch.

Lisa struggled out of bed, a sudden desire to chase after the man hitting her. What good did it do to tell the doctors some mystery substance had harmed Hutch? If she could get the man then they could find out exactly what he'd done and save Hutch. She needed to find someone to help her, and since Hutch needed the doctors she ventured out into the hall to see if anyone was about. The constant turbulence combined with her own weakened state made it a slow affair, and she was further crushed to emerge into the hall with not a soul in sight.

Determined, she moved as fast as she could down the hall, using the wall as support. When she got to a spot where another passage intersected with that one, she was shocked to find herself pulled forcibly down it. She tried to shriek but found her mouth and nose covered by a rather strong and powerful hand.

Lisa knew it had to be the man whom she'd seen back in the room, but now he had on some sort of mask. He had her pinned against the wall of the dimly lit and deserted hallway, and he was almost smothering her in his attempt to silence her. She'd never felt so afraid or vulnerable in her life. The more she panicked, the more she felt like she couldn't breathe.

"Unless you want to join your friend, you didn't see anything," he warned her. And though it was obvious he was trying to disguise his voice, a small light of recognition went on in Lisa's mind.

But before she could have time to think on it further, the man threw her roughly aside, and struck her with a blunt object on the back of her head. She fell into an unconscious heap on the floor.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	9. There's No Other Way Part III

**Winning Days**

Book III: There's No Other Way, Part III

By Purrsia Kat

Nothing felt right. Sandu felt it in his bones and he winced as he scolded himself for ever speaking to that alien woman. What had come over him, he wasn't quite sure. Maybe he was just sick of it all – the blackmail, the worry, the coercion of being a pawn in a war he no longer had his heart in. Or perhaps he knew deep in his soul that Nerok and his lot would never keep their word, anyway. He hadn't spoken to or seen his family in some time so for all he knew, they'd been driven to their deaths in the seedy metal fab factories where many civilians were forced to work on the machines of war. Even so, a knot formed in his stomach when their fleet made an abrupt change of plans and direction. He knew better than to spill his guts just for the simple fact that the higher-ups were so paranoid, nothing generally went on that at the very least electronic eyes and ears didn't clue them in on. Nerok, he thought, must know he told that girl everything. And part of him felt guilty for his carelessness not only likely doomed him, but the girl as well. After all, what use was she going to be to Nerok anyway? Given what he knew of the corrupt in the Drule Empire, the girl didn't stand much of a chance for freedom anyway. But still – it was hard to accept his role in perhaps rushing that cruel fate to a crescendo.

He stood at his post in an otherwise empty corridor and gazed forlornly at a few lonesome and distant asteroids that rolled lazily by out the window. Sandu was so lost in thought he didn't hear a trio of his comrades approach until they were almost at his side. Their expressions were firm and their firearms aimed at him menacingly. _This is it_, he thought with hopelessness, all the while he made no attempt to either run or speak in his defense. Neither would do him a bit of good. One soldier reached over and relieved Sandu of his own pistol.

The three soldiers didn't speak – they didn't have to. They simply jerked their weapons in the direction he was to walk, and Sandu silently complied. They turned left when they reached the window at the end of the corridor and waiting there were three more armed guards who surrounded a very alarmed looking Keira. Sandu really hated being right so often about the wrong things, and he flinched at the sight of her while avoiding eye contact. The only thing he had left to wonder about is why they weren't simply being gunned down where they stood.

* * *

Laser fire lit up the bridge where Twila commanded her fleet. Her eyes blazed to rival that display, unbelieving as she was that Nerok left her in the lurch. What was that fat idiot thinking? Now was their chance, with the Alliance crippled and ailing and most of all – no chance for Voltron! She might have been able to do it alone, but the robeast she'd brought along had some last minute malfunctions rendering the thing little more than a useless pile of circuits. Fleet against fleet, they were still matched too evenly. Nerok's forces, however, could have given them the edge they needed.

"Damn, damn, damn!" she cursed, her eyes scanning the battle laid out before her on the telescreen. "Get me Nerok on the ultrawave – NOW!" she screamed down at the underlings manning the bridge's controls.

Within moments, Nerok's smug face flickered onto the wide screen before her. "Where the hell are you?" she demanded of him, without courtesy or introduction.

Nerok blinked as if lost by her query; though it was obvious to her it was part of the mocking sarcasm she'd known him for.

"Oh, were you expecting me?" he asked in an innocent tone.

"Don't play games with me, fat ass," she growled, in no mood for games.

Nerok rolled his eyes. "My dear, we can't all be blessed with looks like yourself. Fortunately for me, I do have my share of brains. If you had yours, perhaps you wouldn't have stormed into battle without me against our plans!" His façade was dropped and now his eyes too, were blazing. "Good luck, Twila. You're going to need it. I've made alternate plans."

He dropped the communication, ensuring himself the last word, which only infuriated Twila more.

"Bastard!" she railed at the now darkened screen.

She took a moment to fantasize about wrapping her hands around his neck and squeezing with all her might until he couldn't draw another breath. She groaned as more of her fleet blew up before her, bringing her harshly out of the fantasy. It was no use. She'd have to call a retreat.

"Captain Twila?" prodded one nervous soldier who awaited her orders.

"Retreat," she choked out, despising ever having to form the word with her mouth. "Order a retreat."

And that's just what she did, as well – right to her officer's quarters to brood the whole way home. She'd make Nerok pay for that double cross. He cost the Empire their most coveted victory! For all his gloating about brains, she didn't see the wisdom behind what he'd done at all. So she fired a few shots first? Why was it the damn men in the Empire always thought the women were out to undermine them? It was enough to make her want to scream. It wasn't fair and somehow she'd make sure the Supreme Council saw things her way.

* * *

As Lisa came to, the first thing she was acutely aware of was a throbbing ache in her head. She groaned softly and stirred as she awoke. Then she realized she was back in sickbay when her eyes were able to focus in on her surroundings.

She tried to sit bolt upright in bed when memories of what happened to her – and Hutch – flooded her woozy head. She soon regretted the move when her wounds protested painfully, and fell back flat onto the pillow. She settled for turning her head toward where Hutch was lying before, and her heart sank to see the bed empty.

Lisa clenched her eyes shut against the sight of the empty bed, afraid of what it could mean. By the gods, had that horrible man succeeded in ending Hutch's life? Tears threatened to spill onto her cheeks for entertaining the thought.

She nearly choked on the lump in her throat when someone spoke her name. It was Debbie, the assistant nurse, standing over her and looking rather concerned. "Lisa, how are you feeling?" she asked softly.

"Okay, but…" Lisa paused, blinking back tears. "Hutch. What happened to him? I saw a man standing over him before…before-"

"Relax," Debbie urged while patting one of Lisa's shoulders. "He was moved. But he pulled through. He's still critical," she quickly corrected herself, "and unconscious, but he's still with us. Question is, what were you doing up wandering the halls? You know you're in no shape to launch with your team."

Lisa shook her head. "It wasn't that." The mention of her team made her realize for the first time that there was no tell-tale turbulence of battle so Lisa felt another wave of relief knowing that meant whatever fight had erupted was over now. "I was following the man who'd done something to Hutch – I saw him inject something into Hutch's IV right before his monitors went crazy. But he found me first, threatened me, and knocked me down." She knew now how crazy she was to follow such a dangerous man in her condition. She was lucky she hadn't managed to get herself killed.

Debbie's eyes grew wide. "Did you get a good look at him? Do you know who it is, Lisa?"

"I'm sorry, he wore a mask," she explained with regret. "But his voice, it was so familiar…" she trailed off, thinking hard as her aching mind would allow, but the light of recognition wouldn't quite illuminate.

Debbie nodded and patted Lisa's hand in a comforting manner. "Don't worry yourself too much about it now. You need to get well. Your team will be by soon to see you – they've been very worried about you. For now, I've got to go let Hutch's doctors know his fluids were tampered with, rather than wait for the labs to tell us. Thank you."

Lisa was glad to see her teammates file in after Debbie left for with such a man lurking on aboard; she didn't exactly want to meet up with him alone again.

"Are you a sight for sore eyes," she greeted, her arms reaching out toward them.

She scanned their concerned faces – Cric, Shannon, Tangor, Zandee – and fought back new tears at the joy of seeing them again. She was grateful – grateful they had survived and herself as well. They looked worn and tired from battle stress, but they were here.

"Look at you," Shannon spoke. "Emotional as ever. I think she'll be alright boys."

With that, the Sea Team allowed themselves a moment to laugh amid the chaos of recent days.

Shortly afterward, Jeff also joined them and Lisa was glad to see him. As if on cue, her team fell back and gave the two of them time alone. At first, Jeff seemed awkward and uneasy around her, and Lisa couldn't figure as to why. It wasn't like Jeff to actually be shy. But then she recalled the gala and how Jeff had stolen a kiss from her, along with her reaction. In all that had been going on, they hadn't had time to sort their feeling out, all the while rumors were flying around the ship about them.

If her head didn't already hurt, she'd give herself a good slap on the forehead. Obviously, he cared for her and what she'd done would seem to him like such a rejection. She reached out for his hand, touched by his concern and smiled up at him reassuringly. He took her hand and almost seemed to blush.

"Oh, Jeff…" There was so much she wanted to tell him. For starters, it wasn't that she didn't have feelings for him. However, their situation as teammates on the Voltron Force was another matter. A stellar romance could easily get complicated even without factoring in the fraternizing part, which would easily endanger his career as a pilot. It wasn't something she was so sure she would want to be responsible for if she allowed herself to follow her heart. Not to mention there was Ginger to consider, and Lisa couldn't very well flaunt an affair in front of her friend, not knowing how she also felt about Jeff. It was already complicated, before it even began!

"Hey," he replied, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other as he stood by her bed and glanced back at the where the Sea Team stood on the other side of the room. Their glances caused Jeff to quickly take his hand away from Lisa and rub the back of his head self-consciously. "Is it that obvious? I mean, to them?" he asked Lisa in hushed tones.

Lisa tried not to laugh, for it would hurt too much. "I guess so. But you know, they've got Cric. He's intuitive anyway."

Before she could add anything more, Jeff nodded knowingly and said, "Well, I just wanted to say I'm glad you're okay." He then fixed his dark eyes on hers and the fury that flashed within them frightened Lisa, as he continued. "And I'm gonna find this creep, and when I do, he's going to wish he never crossed the Alliance."

"Oh, please don't do anything rash," she begged of him. "He's not worth a court martial."

Jeff just scowled and got more agitated. "I'm getting tired of all these rules that we gotta follow, but nobody else has to."

Before she had a chance to admonish him, he reached out and squeezed her hand, and with the Sea Team looking on, leaned over and brushed her hair away from her forehead with his free hand so he could plant a quick kiss there.

Ignoring the murmurs from across the room, he turned to leave. "Don't worry," he assured her. "He'll never hurt you again."

It was no use, she realized as she watched Jeff leave. Once he got something in his head, Jeff rarely let it go. She felt anything but assured, worried about what a confrontation with the traitor might mean for Jeff in more ways than one. At best he'd lose his head, do something rash, and face court martial. At worse, he'd be on the deadly losing end of a heated confrontation, and neither outcome was anything Lisa wanted to consider.

* * *

Hazar finally got his chance at solitude after his sister, Dorma, left – he assumed to return to Drule given it was clear they had different ideas about how to save their people. Here on Dreska he'd have all the time alone he wanted. And perhaps it was too much, for he couldn't stop thinking back to his glory days as the top commander of all the Drule forces. Those days when there was no stopping to weigh right or wrong because it all felt right, no second guessing…nothing but days full of victory, glory and no cares. And now he wondered if he'd brought it all on himself, these dark days of disgrace. Or was Dorma right and he just didn't have the spine to do what was really right when it counted? He just didn't know.

Maybe the Council was right all along. If the Alliance were out of the way, there would be no wasting time. They could get to what mattered most – saving his people from a dying world. Hazar shook his head and turned away from the window and the barren landscape it framed outside. But then, who could guarantee the Emperor and high council even care enough about the people to move on what needs to be done? Maybe Dorma was right, in that those Drule leaders were like a tumor that needed to be removed no matter how the Alliance factored into the struggle.

He groaned, frustrated for being so uncertain. Angrier, even, for getting to this place where he no longer felt strong or sure of his actions. Dorma was wrong about one thing – he wasn't capable of leading anyone in this state. A leader has to have a goal and a focus in addition to being sure of himself, and right now he didn't have it in him to lead even if he could somehow get out of exile and back to Drule. The hopelessness weighed on his heart, and Hazar felt there was nothing left to do but sit back and watch the fools that ran his planet play their deadly games.

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted as a guard let himself into the room. "Sir."

"Yes?" Hazar's voice showed more than a hint of impatience. To his dismay, the guard didn't seem intimidated at all. It was slowly sinking in that Hazar no longer commanded the respect he once had. Of course, he knew he lost sway with the Council long ago, but now even the lowest underling seemed unimpressed. He may be exiled but he was still an officer and the lack of respect was an outrage to him.

This was his fate then, to wander this desolate moon for the rest of his days, of no regard and of no importance. And then Hazar realized why they'd "spared" him the usual fate of a traitor – death would be too easy when assigning him to such a living hell was so much more fun for those sadistic fools to carry out.

"I thought you might want to know," the guard informed him. "Twila was turned away by the Alliance. Nerok's status is not known – he cannot be reached."

"Oh?" Hazar was intrigued. Another failure. Very interesting, indeed.

"She's requested back-up from the small fleet the council left for you to command."

Hazar knew as well as the guard did that the fleet was left as a sort of mockery – a nice reminder of who he used to be and what he used to be capable of. So if Twila needed the mockery of a fleet upon her retreat, it was just as well. Though it surprised him at this point they even bothered to get his permission to utilize it.

"Fine," Hazar replied, waving the man off so that he may once again be alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Nerok's fleet floated in planet Phynos's atmosphere, facing a pair of similar Drule vessels. Keira stood frozen beside Sandu inside the front bay of Nerok's command ship, a robeast towering above them, and the two lone ships visible to her within a nearby screen Nerok stood beside.

"Now, I'll ask you again. Get in the robeast. Both of you." Nerok's body language told her he meant business, and Keira looked to Sandu for any sort of support. But the young Drule soldier looked tired and broken as if resigned to this horrible fate. She knew as well as he did that if they boarded that awful thing they faced great peril. But, maybe they could take it and flee? She didn't know how to operate the thing, and would need his help, but he didn't seem to care.

Keira glanced over at Nerok, who eyed her expectedly.

"I can't believe I ever helped you," she blurted. "I don't care what you do to me now, anyway."

"I thought you might play all self-sacrificing and noble," Nerok replied dryly. "The two ships out there?" Nerok said, pointing to the screen. "They're not manned by Drules – but some of your surviving countrymen. Who, by the way, trust me implicitly, my dear. I asked them to come here and like dutiful little peons they complied."

Keira's jaw went slack and her eyes wide. He couldn't. He **wouldn't**!

"You do what I say when I say it. Or I won't think twice to shoot those vessels down," he continued, a smug grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "They won't even know what hit them."

Keira shook her head. "No! Even you couldn't be that cruel." She looked desperately to Sandu, but the man's expression had hardly changed. If anything, he seemed annoyed that she was dragging out the inevitable.

"Oh? Who destroyed your little world? Who has been sabotaging the survivors and shooting down their ships so the Alliance can take more of the blame?" He paused, smiling a sinisterly at Keira which made her flesh crawl. "Give up? Me!"

With wild abandon, Keira rushed toward Nerok he'd enraged her so. Not that she could really harm the imposing Drule, but it mattered little anyway for armed guards halted her charge. It all seemed to amuse Nerok even more. His mocking laughter made her cry out in frustration and anger.

After she calmed down a bit, she realized Nerok was the type that would probably murder them anyway. So, why should she help him do anymore harm to the Alliance. Her resolve became all the more firm. "No," she intoned defiantly. "I believe you'll kill them anyway. I'm not getting in that thing."

Nerok shrugged. "You're right. I probably will shoot them down anyway, just for sport. But it's up to you, sweetheart, whether you want to witness me hunting down every last of your kind or if you'd rather die first and be spared the sight."

A cold chill set over her, and she had an awful insight into her situation. Perhaps doing as she was told for now was the best way. If she could just somehow survive – if the Alliance would spare her, she could warn her people. She could get some help.

Tears sprang up in her eyes as she turned and, with Sandu, boarded the intimidating metal behemoth. Once inside, Nerok and several armed soldiers were close behind. Keira got an awful feeling that manifested as a nauseating knot in the pit of her stomach.

Nerok laughed derisively. "Oh, you didn't think we were going to let you two traitors do the piloting? No, soldiers who still want glory for the Empire will do the fighting. You're just going to be their little insurance policy. That way, if Voltron does fly, he'll have quite a little moral pickle to consider. Tie them up," he ordered.

Guards overcame the pair and bound them, leaving them hog tied on the floor behind the three pilots' seats. Three of those guards settled in for the flight.

Nerok turned before leaving to look upon his captives one last time. "I suggest you pray Voltron is defeated this time or you'll meet a very unpleasant fate. Although, here's something to consider – thanks to the information you supplied us with, dear, this robeast is equipped to exploit Voltron's weaknesses, should he appear. So never say I'm not classy enough to say 'thanks'."

Keira writhed against her restraints to no avail. She hated herself for what she had done. It was all so clear to her now – how kind the Explorer crew had been to her. But she'd been too brainwashed and frightened to see it then. Now…there was no good outcome. If Voltron fell, a great hope would be lost and it would be partly her fault. If he prevails, she and Sandu would perish. And her people – they were still unwittingly at the mercy of a murderous madman. They would never be warned in time.

As they all waited for word to launch, Keira stopped struggling. She simply closed her eyes and wept quietly.

* * *

Dorma's shuttle was sinking slowly onto the landing dock, deep under the surface of her dying home world, planet Drule. Though she was disturbed that she could not persuade her brother Hazar to join in the struggles of the URF, the underground force of rebel fighters, she had her business to attend to. Since her encounter with the URF leader, Baki, she understood her role in the fight. She was on the inside, part of the Drule aristocracy that ruled the planet. At first, it was a mark of shame for her as she came to realize where the Council's priorities were, but with her involvement in the rebellion still a secret, she could deliver the information to the rebels and sabotage the corrupt ones at the same time. It was a risky job, of course. But in revolution there was always risk and there were always a few among those brave enough to fight that were left swinging at the gallows, so to speak. What is treason to one is a brave fight for survival for another, and Dorma understood that Hazar couldn't quite differentiate between the two. Not yet. Though she prayed he would see the light, too. He had access to more than she, not to mention he had a certain way as a leader – a particular way about him that made the people want to listen. His aid in the rebellion would be invaluable. But for now, she had to leave him and come back home to do the grim and dangerous business of espionage.

Once her shuttle landed, she stole away through the dusty streets until she was sure she was likely not being followed before she met up with Baki. She ducked into an abandoned building and found the hinged door in the floor, somewhat difficult in the dim light, which led to the URF's secret meeting place. Only Baki was present in the chamber when she entered, candlelight casting his shadow in a larger than life form upon the stone walls. The elder man turned and greeted her with a curt nod.

"Dorma, you've returned. Any luck?" he asked, his voice gruff yet soft.

She shook her head regrettably. "No, Hazar wouldn't listen to reason. I'm afraid we'll have to do this without his help."

Baki nodded. "Very well. What of your father?"

Dorma crossed the room until she stood near to him.

"I fear he's more set in his ways than Hazar," she began. She believed that her father, Chancellor Mozak, was a good man, but he also had a sense of loyalty and duty akin to Hazar's and approaching him was more frightening a concept to Dorma. "But," she quickly added, "I took the liberty of rummaging through his office right before Hazar was sent away. My parents were so busy fretting over Hazar's fate it was the perfect opportunity. And this is what I found." She passed a small tube with rolled up documents within it to Baki, who took them out and stepped closer to one of the candles to read them.

Dorma watched Baki's eyes scan the papers for a moment, wondering what he would think of the information they revealed. Of course, she'd read them over already. And they were scandalous to say the least. What they contained were evidence from the Drule's top scientists – many of which were now mysteriously missing or dead – that told of the planet's true state and how long they really had before the whole place crumbled. With them, were the documents of the High Council's spin doctors, downplaying the danger and giving a much different reason and time line for the planet's death throes.

Baki looked up and stared intently for a moment into Dorma's eyes. When he spoke, it was one simple word that summed it up.

"Incredible."

Dorma could contain her excitement no longer. "Isn't it? Imagine the people we can recruit to our cause with this – this proof of what liars lead us, proof of the cover-up that is sure to doom us if we don't get rid of that infernal council and Emperor once and for all and save ourselves." The fact that the Council included her own father was something she was aware of and knew she would have to deal with eventually. For now, she concentrated on the task at hand.

Baki smiled. "Spoken like a true rebel. I'm glad my instinct about you was right, my lady," he added as he reached out and embraced her warmly. Pulling back, he looked down into her tear-rimmed eyes. "No matter how this turns out, always know that you were one of the few brave ones, Dorma. You've nothing to be ashamed of."

A small smile crossed her face. She certainly hoped what little she could do to help would somehow make up for years of her own indulgence and corruption. She owed these people, these commoners who only wanted to live, love and survive, everything she had now and this was at least a start.

"There's still much to do," she reminded him, blinking back her tears to resume her businesslike demeanor. She knew she had to confront her father. Clearly, he knew of this information and had been just sitting on it. And that made him one of their enemies, which brought up a tempest of emotion in her. Dorma dreaded the possibility that her family would never "come around" to see the light and she'd have to fight them as well. The hope was it wouldn't have to come to that. She would find out soon, but first there was something else that needed her attention.

"Right," Baki replied, carefully replacing the documents back in the tube. Then he turned, removed a loose stone in the wall and tucked the tube inside the hollow spot behind it for safe keeping, before replacing the stone. "We'll call a meeting tonight and work on a plan for a coup – with or without Hazar and your father. We'll also discuss more recruits."

"About my father," Dorma added nervously, swallowing hard. "I – I may approach him tonight. We really do need someone with more influence on the inside than me…" She also hoped she could stave off a coup attempt before she had a chance to convince the ones she loved to join her lest they go down with the rest of the high command and council. She was sure that even if her father wouldn't join them, he'd not sell out his only daughter. It was a risk she was willing to take.

Baki clasped his hands on Dorma's shoulders. "Do what you think is best. I have faith in you."

What he didn't know was she also had plans for Viceroy Throk. No, she wouldn't dare tell him about the rebellion. But, she did have a plan to get information from him and put him in his place once and for all.

* * *

"Sir. Nerok on the ultrawave," Sparks said, turning to look to Commander Hawkins at his seat on the Explorer's bridge.

"Patch him through," came Hawkins' reply.

Nerok's visage blipped onto the screen, and Hawkins was immediately put off by the man's seemingly permanent sneer. Of all the Drule commanders Hawkins had the displeasure of dealing with, Nerok was his least favorite simply because his arrogance was unparalleled.

"Hawkins," Nerok being without the courtesy of a title. "I believe I've got a young lady aboard my vessel that you'd be interested in having back. After all, she did go turncoat on you, and it's only fair that you have the chance to punish her accordingly."

Hawkins glared up at Nerok's form, smelling some sort of trap. It wasn't usually a concern of the Drule Empire when it came to following intergalactic laws. The man was up to something…but at the same time, he couldn't let Keira stay with the Drules. Regardless of what she had done while aboard the Explorer, she'd be much safer in the custody of the Alliance.

"Fine," Hawkins replied. "Send her over in a shuttle then."

To Hawkins' surprise, Sparks muted the communication with Nerok to interrupt. "Sir, pardon me for interjecting, but I think you're falling right into a trap."

"Thank you, but I know what I'm doing," Hawkins shot back rather curtly. He wasn't sure if it was Nerok's typical smug ways that had him irritable or the whole mess of the last few weeks putting cracks in his composure, but he definitely was in no mood to be second-guessed by his bridge crew.

"Yes, sir," mumbled Sparks as he opened the line of communication once again.

Nerok was grinning wider than ever. "That was an interesting _glitch_ in communications," he noted with a tone that let Hawkins know he believed it to be anything but a glitch. "Now, we'll send the girl over to you. But you have to come down here to Phynos and get her."

Hawkins was familiar with the planet. It'd been one they explored before and was deemed too hostile a desert planet to settle or even set up base operations upon. He could think of nothing about the planet offhand that Nerok could use to his advantage.

"We'll be there shortly," Hawkins said with more than a little skepticism.

After communications were cut, he ordered the crew to change course and be on the lookout. A brief look at radar and other intelligence revealed Nerok's fleet was only of a moderate size and there appeared to be nothing else nearby in the way of backup for him. Phynos would put them at a distance from the battered satellite base of the Alliance, and without enough pilots for Voltron, even a moderate Drule fleet could be big trouble. Hawkins sighed, unable to shake the feeling that there was something more to this trip than simply securing the return of Keira.

* * *

Elsewhere in the Explorer, Cric made his way to Hutch's new room in the critical care infirmary. The teams were working in shifts to run bedside vigils for both Lisa and Hutch to ensure no further attempts were made on their lives. The Voltron Force seemed to be the least suspected as housing the traitor among them, hence the charge of looking after their own.

He settled in on a chair near Hutch's bedside and couldn't help but feel saddened to see the man in such obvious bad shape. Hutch's pale form was deathly still while various tubes and wires stuck out from countless points on his body to monitor his health or deliver life-sustaining air and fluids.

Cric had been briefed earlier on Hutch's health and it didn't sound good. The medical staff wondered if indeed Hutch would ever fly with his team again, if he survived at all. Sitting there, Cric tried to get a feel for what was in store for Hutch as far as recovery by tapping into his sixth sense, but it was no use. He was far too taxed and mentally exhausted from the recent fighting and the responsibilities of leading the entire Voltron Force. Long moments passed while Cric gazed at Hutch's pathetic form, and guilt stabbed at his heart anew.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The rhythmic whoosh of the ventilator was the only response to Cric's apology.

Once again, Cric tortured himself with the what-ifs, had his decisions in that critical battle when Hutch was so wounded were different. What if he had listened to Cliff and forgot about Voltron long enough to get Hutch help? He once again wished it were him lying there instead of Hutch.

Lost in thought, he startled when Cinda rested her hand gently on his shoulder. He was relieved it was Cinda, but realized he didn't make such an effective bedside sentry, either.

Without a word, she pulled a seat up by his and motioned for him to turn to face her, so that they were seated facing each other. There they sat, with their knees almost touching. She reached over and took both his hands in hers and he realized then what she was doing.

They were from the same world, and though they had no mutual romantic feelings for one another, Cric was always grateful that one of his own kind were with him on this journey. Not only did Cinda have the same curious features – the same pale blue skin, pointed ears, and extra sensory abilities – but, she understood their unique struggle and customs as a people, including their meditation and mind healing rituals. She would always be one of his dearest friends, so strong was their bond and friendship as countrymen, not to mention the bond of being on the Voltron Force.

Most mind clearing exercises could be done alone, but he knew what she was about to do took two of their kind to accomplish. It involved mutual meditation where the stressed party would absorb the other's positive energy to help speed the healing. Cinda risked wearing herself down in the process, but she seemed not to care as she encouraged Cric to concentrate mentally on the flow of energy between them.

* * *

Standing outside what formerly were her brother's office quarters, inside the Council's main building, Dorma readied herself for another meeting with Throk. Before entering, she made one last adjustment to her uniform by unzipping it a bit further down. Normally, she loathed the tendency of the males around her to view her as merely a girl at most and a sex object at worst, but with a cad like Throk, the distraction of his small mind would be to her advantage.

She breezed through the doorway, her long hair and cape leaving a flowing trail behind her. Throk looked up from whatever it was he'd been studying on his desk and smiled knowingly at his visitor.

Dorma fought the urge to rage at him as he stood up from his desk and crossed the room toward her and did her best to keep her expression even and devoid of disgust.

"I knew it wouldn't be long until you left your sniveling brother and came to your senses," Throk stated matter-of-factly while he paced around Dorma, looking her over.

"Fine," Dorma replied, still fighting to keep her emotions under control by focusing on what she had to do. Her tone remained casual and playful. "You were right. Is that what you want to hear? Seeing him there on Dreska, I realized what a pathetic thing Hazar always was. He's a fool."

Throk stopped his pacing when he came around to face her once again. He was standing so close she could smell the reek of wine on his breath. Gazing up into his eyes, she could tell he was well under the influence of drink and couldn't help but genuinely smile at her luck. Inebriation on his part would definitely work in her favor.

Throk mistook the smile as a cue of an entirely different sort. Cupping her chin in his hand, he leaned in all the closer.

"What else was I right about, love?" he asked huskily.

She saw his gaze drop to the revealing opening in her uniform and realized he meant to seduce her. Instinctively, she gasped and pushed away from him.

At first she worried that she'd tipped her hand, but to her surprise it seemed to excite him all the more. He pulled her in close, a look of triumph somehow warping his features to make them appear that much more sinister to Dorma. Her body went rigid in the grip of his embrace, but he didn't seem to notice. With his free hand, he tugged at her gaping uniform. "Always the tease," he remarked before consuming her lips in a passionate kiss she had no time to dodge.

The taste of him made her want to simply throw up, and it took a moment before she could twist out of the embrace. She wanted badly to wipe dry her lips of the remnants of his wretched kiss, but she refrained. They stood for a moment, breathing heavily and eyeing each other suspiciously.

Then Throk broke into a smile that sent a chill down Dorma's spine.

"This is good. I actually like it that you resist."

Dorma's mind raced as she tried to think of reasons and ways to stall. Sure, she'd wanted to toy with him, to string him along. But she hadn't counted on his hormones being in such a damn rage and she certainly didn't plan on taking it as far as sleeping with him willingly. She eyed him coyly.

"No pleasure before business," she reminded him, hoping to change the subject long enough to get out of this heated situation. But he simply wouldn't bite.

"Always pleasure first," he said lustily. Before she knew it, he grabbed her again and violently tore at her uniform, leaving it torn all the way down past her waist and leaving her breasts covered only by a thin, lacy bra. She barely had time to gasp in shock before he tossed her atop his desk and came at her with clear intentions.

Papers scattered, and she lay there on her back in slack-jawed shock for a moment before she came to her senses. This was serious and this had to stop. That much she knew, even in her panicked mind. As Throk climbed menacingly onto the broad, sturdy desktop, Dorma scooted back as best she could on her hands until her fingers touched upon something that felt long and pointed. Just as Throk was about to overtake her, she gripped the object that turned out to be a letter opener, and thrust it with as much force as she could muster just below Throk's chest. It entered just under where the armored part of his uniform protected his upper chest, and she twist it upward as far as she could. The force with which she stabbed him was so great the handle of the letter opener broke off in her hand.

She dropped the handle and sat partly upright, seemingly frozen, as Throk's eyes widened. He let out a shocked cry and clumsily fumbled with his hands at the invasive object before falling off the desk and into a heap on the floor.

Dorma's blood pounded in her head and she couldn't help but cry out as he fell. It seemed an eternity before she could bring herself to peer over the edge of the desk. When she did, she saw his motionless form on the floor while blood turned the white papers beneath him red. Time almost stood still for her while it slowly sank in as to what she'd done.

Her hand flew to her lips to stifle another cry. This certainly hadn't been her plan. The Council would have her head for murdering a ranking officer. Hot tears sprang to her eyes as she realized that she would have to stay out of sight for good and thus her use in the URF just died with him. But there was one more thing she could do. It was after hours and there were few guards in the building - chances were they hadn't heard the commotion. Gathering her senses, Dorma busied herself with ransacking Throk's office.

* * *

Hours later Jeff stood with the rest of the Voltron Force in the hangar on the Explorer where their ships were docked, waiting with the others on the word to launch. He was plenty aggravated too, but at least Cric seemed in better spirits. In fact, he was in the best mood Jeff had seen him in for some time. And if the man felt something evil was afoot on this latest mission, he didn't show it.

None of that served to reassure Jeff. He may not be as in tune as Cric, but he didn't need a psychic to tell him this was bad news. Nerok of all people was not known for playing it straight, and Jeff certainly didn't care on a personal level whether he ever saw Keira again, regardless of whether or not this meant she'd be brought to justice for what she'd done. Being stuck with the Drules is what he considered punishment enough – he certainly wasn't enthused with the idea of risking his neck to get her back in custody. But as the Drules so often liked to do, they were using Alliance conduct codes and laws to more or less give them no choice but to fly into yet another trap. If a prisoner was offered for return that had been originally in their custody, they had to accept. More than ever, Jeff was tired of being on the side that was playing – and getting burned by – the rules.

Furthermore, he was upset with Lisa for insisting on launching with them. She was really in no shape to go back out there, and it'd just be something more he had to worry about. Against all advice, she waited in the hangar with them, leaning on Ginger for support. She argued that even if the Land Team couldn't get the extra fire power forming the Turbo Terrain Fighter would afford them, her presence would give them two compact units to face the Drules. It was their best chance without Hutch there to form Voltron and Sven still so far out in his journey to lend a hand. She was right, but he didn't have to like it. They all knew they were likely going to get into a hell of a fight before the day was through, despite all appearances to the contrary.

"This is stupid," he muttered, apparently loudly enough for Cliff to hear.

"For once, we agree," quipped the Land Team leader.

And then the orders they were waiting on came over the ship's communication systems – the alert for all ships to launch and meet Nerok's fleet.

* * *

One thing that night had worked out in Dorma's favor. She'd known of a way to leave Hazar's old office without having to go back through security. He always had another route to leave, just in case there was ever an attempt on his life as there had been in the day of Brack's failed rebellion. She tried not to think of the consequences of that attempt for him and how it may parallel her own for what she'd done to Throk. Clutching a folder full of documents, she dodged through the shadows of the back alleys, wondering if they were already looking for her.

She went back to the URF hideout, where she planned to simply drop off what she found before going into hiding. Baki was still there when she arrived, however, and he was clearly alarmed by her disheveled and panicked appearance.

"By the stars, Dorma, what happened to you? Are you all right?"

She shook her head. "I – I got in over my head. And I'm afraid Throk's dead."

Dorma found herself blurting out the details of her encounter with Throk, up to the bitter end. Baki stood in shocked disbelief.

His ensuing silence worried her, so she began to add on reassurances. "I won't come back here ever again, and I'll never tell them who I was working with. As far as they'll ever know, if and when they catch me, is that I was working alone. I deeply apologize for any jeopardy I've put the rebellion in. But I did get these…"

Dorma passed the oversized envelope to Baki, who took it from her slowly, still stunned from the news. He then saw that her clothes were indeed ripped, and took his cloak off a nearby chair and offered it to her. She accepted with a weak smile of thanks.

"Dorma, don't go," he said finally, his eyes warm with concern. "We'll hide you, here."

She waved off his offer. "I can't possibly let you take the risk. If Throk is dead, they won't rest until I'm caught. And thanks to the guard's registry pegging me as the last one authorized in his office, I'm going to be the top suspect. The rebellion means too much for the survival of our people to jeopardize it any more than my foolishness already has," she said firmly. On this, she would not budge. "I have one more person to see tonight…after that, wish me luck."

With that, she turned and left, leaving Baki to wonder if he'd ever see her again.

* * *

Hawkins felt nothing but anger and frustration, his worst fears on this mission unfolding before him. Nerok lured them in, and as predicted, attacked the Voltron Force. They had no choice but to defend themselves, but to his shock, Nerok had succeeded in tricking the Alliance into once again shooting down more Rilons.

Hawkins picked up his headset and gave it a healthy throw across the bridge. "Dammit, Sparks, I thought we were tracking which ships the Rilons were in? How could this happen again?"

His crew stared back at him wide-eyed and none of them seemed to have any answers that could possibly be close to satisfactory. Meanwhile, the battle was only intensifying to the point where even a retreat would be impossible to do and live to tell about it.

Hawkins' heart sank when he saw a giant robeast released – the biggest one he'd seen yet – and the teams' vain efforts to ward it off. He knew what he had to do.

"Commander, where are you going?" Sparks shouted after him.

Hawkins turned to face the bridge crew briefly. "Captain Newley is on his way with a support fleet from the base. He'll be in charge while I'm gone."

Sparks exchanged shocked glances with his peers. "Gone? But sir, where?"

"I'm going to go out there and help the Voltron Force. They'll never make it without Voltron."

With that, he strode purposefully down the hall toward the launch bay, intent on boarding Hutch's ship and joining the Teams in their fight. It'd been years since he'd flown any sort of vessel such as he was about to, and truthfully, he wasn't sure he could pilot part of Voltron successfully as specialized as the components were. But, what the Team didn't know is he had been quite an ace pilot in his day, and he was willing to give it a shot knowing that with Hutch out of commission, he was the best chance of pulling this off. Of course, there was always a risk of a commanding officer being so vulnerable in a battle. If the Drules found out it was he in the pilot's seat, he may have more problems than just a robeast to deal with. However, Hawkins found the saying about desperate times true more often than not. Sven would just not make it in time for this one. If the Drules could break the rules of prisoner exchange, then Hawkins felt he could break protocol if it meant saving the Teams and his crew.

As the shuttle descended into Hutch's wheeled Land Team vehicle and settled the commander into the pilot's seat, he took a deep breath. If he can just manage to get the ship out and into formation long enough to form Voltron, the rest would be easy. Or so he hoped.

"Here goes nothing."

* * *

One minute, Hazar was picking idly at his dinner thinking about where his loyalties should lie, the next minute Keezor was marching into his quarters and announcing he was under arrest.

"What now?" Hazar demanded while armed Drule soldiers surrounded him.

"Playing it coy, eh Hazar?" Keezor replied.

Hazar was in no mood for games. "I'm already in exile up here," he reasoned. "What could I possibly have done?"

Keezor shrugged with indifference. "Perhaps nothing directly, but you sure know how to send your dear sister to do your sabotaging for you."

Hazar blinked, wondering if he'd heard correctly. "What?"

Keezor seemed out of patience himself. "Guards, bring him along. He can save his pathetic denials for the Council on Drule while he's on trial…for being a conspirator in the attempted murder of Viceroy Throk!"

Hazar was aghast. Dorma. By the gods, what had she done?

"Dorma, where is she?" he demanded while being led down the hall to a waiting transport ship.

Keezor, who was leading the group, looked over his shoulder at Hazar suspiciously. "That's what we'd like to know from you. I will say she tried her best but unfortunately for both of you, the horny fool will live to testify against you."

Hazar relaxed a little knowing she hadn't been caught, though his mind boggled at what Keezor referred to. He knew what a Drule interrogation could be like, especially when the higher ups were whipped into a paranoia fed frenzy. He prayed she was never found for whatever she'd done, nobody deserved the cruelty she'd suffer at their hands.

"You'll both swing for this, Hazar. I'll see to it," Keezor added cryptically.

So much for a trial, Hazar thought bitterly. It seemed that whatever had transpired, their idea of who orchestrated it was already decided, and the punishments ready to mete out. Not that a kangaroo court scenario surprised him too much anymore – not after the fiasco that decided his exile. But out of all this confusion and befuddlement one thing became clear in Hazar's mind. He could no longer sit idly by on the sidelines. He had to pick a side and make a stand or his family and his people were truly doomed.

* * *

Just when all seemed hopeless, Cric couldn't believe his eyes. But there it was, clear as day – Hutch's ship blazing a course straight for where the teams and robeast fought above the hot sands on Phynos.

"Do you see what I see?" Cric shouted to his teammates.

Cliff's image blipped onto Cric's telescreen. "I don't know how it's possible, but I see him too. Not flying too steady either but frankly, I'm surprised he's flying at all."

The puzzlement only deepened when Cric tried to raise Hutch on the communicator, but no matter what frequency he tried, he couldn't see into the cockpit of the ship. Whoever it was in that ship, they wanted to remain anonymous.

However, the robeast wasn't letting up, so Cric figured there was one thing for them to do – break up their sub-units and form Voltron.

He gave the order, but whoever was piloting Hutch's ship didn't fall into formation right and was nearly taken out by the robeast as a result.

As the teams circled back around to give it another shot, Cliff made his frustrations clear and Jeff only seconded them.

"I don't know who you are, guy, but you better learn how to fly that thing and fast," Cliff informed their mystery helper. "And if that's you, Hutch, not so sure you're helping us, mate."

"Oh man," Jeff chimed in. "Just what we need…newbie training at a time like this."

Cric would have to agree with Jeff. He'd seen Hutch earlier in the day, and there was just no way short of a miracle that was Hutch in there. Though, sadly, a zombie-like Hutch would probably be flying better than that guy was at the moment. Even Sven, he supposed, would be doing better than this but it'd practically require a time warp for that much to be true. It was entirely academic at this point, however.

"No time for this, team," Cric reminded them as he dodged laser fire seemingly coming from all directions. "We gotta try again and get it right this time. Cliff, hold your guy's hand if you have to – make it count."

"If the damn fool has his communicator on," Cliff muttered, but went ahead and gave the required aid for the tight formation required to form Voltron, along with the special settings needed for the ship to properly engage.

They got the formation right this try, but before any engaging could happen, the robeast and any Drule fighters in the vicinity hit Hutch's ship hard, sending it plummeting out of formation toward the sand below.

Cric thought it odd the vessel was so brutally singled out, but then Nerok couldn't resist the opportunity to gloat and lay the mystery to rest.

He came over all their communications, cheerful and satisfied with himself than ever. "Still no Voltron for you I'm afraid. And really - sending your **commanding** officer out in the field of battle? How pathetically desperate of you."

The teams let loose a collective gasp of shock. Could it really be Hawkins piloting Hutch's vehicle?

"Commander, is that really you?" Cric asked while once again trying to raise him on the screen. Hawkins' face flickered onto Cric's screen as his cover was blown, and by the Explorer spy, no doubt – there was no need to keep from showing himself. He watched helplessly as the Commander tried to gain control of the vessel. "Hold on sir, we'll come get you."

But to everyone's surprise, Hawkins leveled out before he crashed into the desert, slightly worse for wear but still flying. "I've got it, thanks," he called back.

"Right. Ready to try this again?" suggested Cliff, who sounded noticeably less irritated and even a bit sheepish.

"Whenever you are," shot back Hawkins.

"This is historical," Ginger chimed in.

"What, that the commander is flying with us?" Cric asked.

"No, that Jeff is speechless for once."

The humor relieved some tension and prepared the team for another shot at forming Voltron.

This time, the action was a success but oddly the turn of events didn't seem to dim Nerok's good cheer. They soon found out why. Just as they were about to do serious battle with the giant robeast, Nerok once more sent them an unwanted message.

"By the way," he informed them, again overriding their communications. "Never let it be said that I wasn't serious about sending the Rilon back to you. I even threw in the bonus of Sandu, the little buddy you bonded with over tea way back when. They're in the robeast," he continued, showing them all a live shot of the beast's interior chamber where the pilots and two bound prisoners sat. "They're all yours if you can figure out how to get them out before the robeast tears you to shreds. Have a nice day."

The teams seemed stunned into silence until Jeff spoke up. "Great. Now what do we do?"

Before they could come up with any grand schemes, the robeast enveloped Voltron in its enormous, crushing embrace, whirled him around and flung him hard into the desert terrain below. The throw was so forceful, that Voltron sunk considerably into the dune with his head, feet and hands the only visible portions sticking out.

"Whatever we do," Jeff croaked when the dust settled. "Let's not do that again."

"That thing is too powerful to fool around with strength for strength," Hawkins interjected. "I think you know what we have to do."

Cric shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "But sir…"

"Remember what I said about sacrificing the few to save the many?" Hawkins asked. "It's not easy, but in the big picture letting ourselves be destroyed when it's clear Nerok has no plans to let those prisoners go with their lives doesn't make sense. You've seen what he's done to innocents throughout the galaxy, and he'll continue to do it unless we survive to stop him."

Cric watched the robeast move in closer on his monitor and swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. How many countless and nameless Drule soldiers had he probably killed in this war without a second thought? It was the natural instinct of survival. And yet, those prisoners on that robeast, he'd known them. They had a face and a name to him and that's what made it such a cruel choice to make.

"You're right, sir," he relented, his heart heavy with regret.

Voltron struggled to get out of the heavy sand and right himself, but that was proving a formidable task with the robeast closing in all the while. Voltron wasn't fast enough and the robeast hit them with some sort of laser blast – and yet, the blast seemed to do nothing but bathe them in light.

Cric wasn't going to question his luck, and ordered all the retro jets to full power. That not only melted much of the sand around them, but gave Voltron enough of a lift to be able to fly again.

With noticeable regret, Cric gave the next order. "Form blazing sword."

The two robots hovered there for a long, agonizing moment, facing off as if daring the other to make the first move. Finally, the robeast advanced and Voltron drew the sword up and swung it down toward the advancing robeast.

"Forgive me," Cric whispered while he helped execute the unavoidable on the robeasts' hapless occupants.

Contact was made, and the sword caused a sickening array of mini-explosions and shearing metal as it blazed its deadly path through the center of the beast.

Voltron drew back when the deed was done in an effort to be at a safe distance when the beast exploded. Instead of an exhilarating rush, Cric felt an overwhelming sadness as he watched the robeast explode in a brilliant fireball.

His teammates quietly shared in his grief.

* * *

_You're taking the fun_

_Out of everything_

_Making me run_

_When I don't want to think_

_You're taking the fun_

_Out of everything_

_I don't want to think at all_

_There's no other way_

_There's no other way_

_All that you can do_

_Is watch them play_

_You're taking the fun_

_Out of everything_

_You're making it clear_

_When I don't want to think_

_There's no other way_

_There's no other way_

_All that you can do_

_Is watch them play_

_--There's No Other Way, Blur_


	10. The Beaten Generation Part I

**Winning Days**

Book IV: The Beaten Generation, Part I

By Purrsia Kat

Jeff came out of his daze as the smoke from the robeast's destruction was clearing, and he caught a glimpse of Nerok's fleet retreating. Forgetting he was not the one in command, he sent Voltron – blazing sword still in hand – up toward the retreating vessels. One thing was on his mind – Nerok was gonna pay. Halfway there, his teammates' shouting brought him back to his senses. They were right – it was against everything the Alliance and their codes of conduct stood for to attack a retreating fleet. Truth was, Jeff wanted to strike out so he had an outlet for all the horror and anger which stemmed from what they'd been cornered into doing. As much as he loathed what Keira had done, she didn't deserve that fate and in particular, neither did Sandu. The fact that the Drules would even do that to one of their own burned Jeff to the core.

Voltron hovered in the sky above Phynos, with its pilots lost in a moment of hopelessness and duty bound honor. That was, until something caught Ginger's keen eye and she radioed her observation to the others.

Looking down at the expanse of golden dunes below, he saw it too…something that caught the bright sun and shone back at them brightly. At first he thought it was just a piece of the robeast, but it was too far from the site of its last stand for that. It also could have been a downed Drule vessel, or part of one, although he couldn't imagine its dark metals shining so brilliantly. Even so, it could be from the ships shot down full of Keira's innocent countrymen, so they had to at least check it out. But this time, he waited for Cric to give the order.

Voltron descended still on the defensive. As he neared his immense shadow darkened the desert floor below. Jeff realized that the object wasn't a part of a ship, but an intact but damaged vessel...some sort of small pod. And making their way out of it were two figures.

Could it be?

With one mighty hand, Voltron scooped down into the sand beneath the two figures and stood upright raising the two frightened captives high above the ground, sand sifting through his huge robotic fingers. There huddled together, to Jeff's utter disbelief, were a battered but very much alive Keira and Sandu.

* * *

Robots and soldiers alike steered clear of Nerok on the brooding flight back to Drule. The ruthlessly ambitious Drule commander couldn't understand what went wrong. He had them that time, he was sure of it!

But none of the special defenses installed in the robeast effected Voltron as expected. It was as if the intelligence they'd received was bogus. And given such, that's why Nerok chose to retreat instead of responding when he realized the escape pod in the robeast had been launched thanks to a built in mechanism. Generally, the pods were only installed in case something went wrong during routine test flights. They provided a means of escape for the pilot as not to lose a perfectly good robot or soldier in a training or exercise. But any honorable Drule would never eject during a battle. Most had too much loyalty to the Empire, and the rest would know the alert would mean if they were captured, they'd be executed for abandoning the Empire in battle. To use it under those circumstances would mean suicide or self-imposed exile. Hence, Nerok could conclude that somehow, Sandu managed to save his own skin – he would know about the pod's existence. And he very well could have been soft enough to take the alien girl with him.

Part of him was galled that not even **that** part of his plot had gone right. He'd have savored it so much more if he could be assured that the Voltron Force had to chew on the consequences of their actions. The other part of him was aware that leaving Sandu and the girl alive and in Alliance custody could mean the risk of revealing the spy's identity.

"Screw him," Nerok grumbled to himself. The idiot fouled up something, or that robeast would have been the end of Voltron. Now he had to return to Drule and face not only Twila's gloating but also the scrutiny of the Council as to why their investment in his fleet, robeasts and leadership were warranted. He almost hoped the spy was ratted out and the Alliance hung him for treason – it'd save him the trouble.

Suddenly, a transmission from Drule interrupted Nerok's bleak train of thought. Nerok could hardly believe what he was hearing. A revolt? He'd know, as had the rest of the council along with the Emperor about some puny band of citizens calling themselves the URF, but they were no real threat. Or so he thought. It seemed someone was causing enough trouble on his home planet to cause an urgent alert for all units to return to home base as soon as possible. Furthermore, Hazar and his sister were being accused of aiding the rebels and making an attempt on Throk's life.

A lopsided grin formed on Nerok's face as he thought about how he could take out his frustrations on a bunch of upstarts. And Hazar's second trial – for treason – was something he didn't want to miss. He just hoped Twila hadn't beat him there and gotten him in his own heap of trouble with her lying mouth.

"Full speed ahead," he ordered his crew.

* * *

Back at the Explorer, the dining hall was abuzz with activity, as the three teams went over the wild roller coaster ride that was the last battle and all the unexpected events that occurred.

"I can't believe I insulted the Commander," Cliff bemoaned, shaking his head at the memory of his comments to the then mystery pilot that flew Hutch's unit.

Jeff clapped Cliff on the back. "Yeah, way to go. And you thought I was the master of 'open mouth, insert foot'."

"Well the open mouth title is still up for debate," Cliff shot back good-naturedly.

"Best of all, Sandu and Keira made it. I would have hated to have that on my conscious," Ginger added. "It's nice that something worked out for us for a change."

Lisa had been standing there listening to the conversation quietly, when she decided she really ought to sit down and rest for she wasn't exactly feeling up to par yet, herself. As she walked off to find a seat, she noticed Cric sitting in a booth alone. She slid onto the seat across from his.

"I don't like this look for you," she declared.

"And what's that?"

"This moping thing you keep doing," she clarified, though her tone was full of concern rather than condemnation.

"It's just – " he began, sitting back and running his fingers through his blue hair. "I was feeling so good, recharged. And then…"

"What?" Lisa pressed him. "You've got to stop getting down on yourself as a leader. You're doing fine. You were never this way when you just had the Sea Team to lead, but when you think about it, you've only got a few more people to take charge of now."

He shook his head. "It's not that. Not this time."

Lisa frowned. She didn't like the sound of this.

"When we were getting ready to take care of that robeast with Sandu and Keira inside, I had a feeling-"

"But they're ok," Lisa interrupted.

"Let me finish," he urged. "Well, actually, I don't know how to describe it really. I've been sitting here trying to get a grip on it. Like…like we're going to be torn asunder, like the beast was when it met the sword. Usually I see only mere moments into the future, relatively speaking, but I think after Cinda helped clear my mind it opened up and I saw farther than I've ever seen before. So it was strange – a bizarre mix of all the good and bad things to come. I can't explain it any other way."

Lisa sighed in exasperation. But then she considered how he must feel. Ominous vagaries weren't fun for anybody.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, and then followed her gaze to where she was watching Jeff as he laughed and talked with some of his teammates. "You like him, don't you?"

Lisa blinked, snapping out of her daydream. "Huh? Oh, I – well, I – "

"I don't know what you're waiting for," Cric continued with a bluntness that had Lisa speechless for a moment. "Good things, like I was saying before, are waiting for you but only if you act now. So why the delay?"

"I-it's complicated," she finally sputtered.

"It's only as complicated as you're making it," he countered. "Listen, we never know how short our lives are going to be. And we're only human – you can't help who you fall in love with. I just don't want you to look back, as a friend, and see the hurt on your face as you're wondering what might have been."

Lisa sat back in her chair, with her mouth agape. "You, Mr. Straight Laced, are sitting there telling me to break protocol by getting involved with a superior."

Cric grinned at her a strange, knowing grin. "The teams, we all know you have a thing for each other and think about it – you already care for one another so whatever "problems" that would cause is already there. No, I wouldn't flaunt it in front of the Commander, but," he shrugged, "there's no sense in being coy about it. What we do out here in space is so serious. Give yourself a break."

Lisa still wasn't convinced. "But what about Ginger? She's my friend—"

"She's had a crush on Jeff since Academy, right?"

Lisa nodded.

"And in all that time Jeff never showed that kind of romantic interest in her, correct?"

"I guess," Lisa replied. "But-"

"But nothing," Cric interrupted. "It's not meant to be. You sitting back out of respect for her isn't going to make Jeff suddenly fall in love with her. You're just denying yourself your own chance at love. I think she will understand that, too."

Lisa eyed Cric with disbelief. She'd never seen him like this before and she certainly never thought she'd be getting her romantic advice from him. "What has gotten into you?"

"It's like I was telling you, I had some kind of life altering epiphany in that battle, Lisa. All I can tell you is you only live once. You only live once." He patted the table with each syllable with the last line, as if to underscore the point even more. Lisa found it inspiring and strange at the same time.

* * *

Keira would have never thought she'd be happy to be on the Explorer again. Not that she was particularly proud of herself but she was feeling oddly grateful to be alive. One thing she'd learned from her ordeal was she **did** want to live.

As she and Sandu were tended to in the sick bay, she marveled at how he'd saved them both. Luckily, neither was gravely injured – just banged up a bit. His kindness also had taught her something else important – things were rarely as simple as black and white and this fight between the Alliance and the Drules was surely complicated. But there were good people on both sides as much as there was blame and shady dealings. The two of them had both been guests aboard the Explorer before and indeed they had to admit, they were treated well.

Keira just wished she'd seen it before.

She looked to Sandu who sat on the bed next to hers, and noticed how shaken he still looked. Her heart went out to the alien man.

"Thank you," she said softly and in all sincerity.

She thought back to that moment in the robeast when it became apparent Voltron was going to have to strike, and her heart quickened at the memory as if she was reliving that awful moment. While the robeast pilots scrambled to figure out why their "special" weaponry had not worked, Sandu had managed to free himself enough to get them to an escape pod. 'Narrow escape' was putting it mildly – they'd crashed because they were caught too close to the robeast when it exploded. Without Sandu she would surely have perished in that awful beast.

Sandu looked down at his bloodied, bruised hands and looked sorrowful enough that it pained Keira. She supposed he was thinking about what was to become of his family now.

The silence between them was awkward, and it gave Keira time to think about facing the Alliance members she so ungratefully betrayed. She wondered what they would have in store for her, although she didn't fear the prospect in the same way she had before. It didn't escape her attention that even though she'd been cleaned up and bandaged as best that could be done, the medics lingered – of course, they wouldn't want to leave her alone anywhere. Not after how she'd behaved in the past. She sighed, sorely wishing she knew then what she did now. Or at least paid attention to it when it was staring her in the face.

It wasn't long before Commander Hawkins entered the room, with the ones she remembered as Jeff and Lisa trailing behind him. Those two headed off first to talk to the medics, as Keira guessed Lisa's obvious ailments were troubling her. Hawkins, however, made a visit to her and Sandu, and Keira found it hard to meet the man's gaze.

"You two have been through quite an ordeal," he remarked.

"I should have never did their dirty deeds for them, no matter what they held over me," muttered Sandu.

Keira would have vocally seconded the sentiment if she didn't feel so intimidated by Hawkins' presence. Though she didn't fear him the way she had Nerok, she did fear he'd have scorn for her role in so many of the bad things that had happened to them all in recent weeks. Was there anything she could even say that would be adequate? She'd never felt so foolish in all her life.

Keira was grateful when Hawkins turned his attention to Sandu for a moment. "I'm sorry it turned out so poorly for you, Sandu, but you are of course, welcome here."

Sandu nodded slowly. "What's going to happen to us now?"

"We're heading to a small outpost we have on a nearby planet that's pretty small itself. The Drules haven't figured out we're there or seemed to have stumbled upon the planet themselves. As soon as we figure it's safe to land there without anyone noticing, we'll drop the two of you off. Strange as it may sound, I think you'll be safer there rather than here."

Keira liked the idea of land and sun. But what would become of them in the long term? It seemed they were both marooned, without a real home or a people to go back to and the thought made Keira sad.

"But first," Hawkins continued, looking again toward Keira much to her chagrin. "We need you and Lisa to participate in a 'voice line-up' of sorts. I'm sure you know we've got a little spying problem on board. Both of you have heard his voice, but you've not seen his face, correct?"

Keira nodded, knowing Hawkins referred to the Drule sympathizer that helped her cause so much trouble. She would of course, cooperate. It was the least she could do now.

Hawkins looked her over thoughtfully while she still had difficulty looking him in the eye. "I think you've probably seen the unfortunate side of the Drule Empire."

Keira dropped her gaze to her lap and nodded again. She thought back to what Nerok said about her world and what was really happening to the survivors, and her eyes teared up with helplessness and anger. The surge of emotion gave her the courage to look up directly at Hawkins for the first time. "I'm sorry," she managed to choke out, though there was so much more she wanted to articulate. But her mind was in such a jumble from all that had happened and all she'd learned – and all she now felt – it just wasn't possible to explain or show just how much regret she had.

"You're not the first to be tricked by the Drule leaders," Hawkins assured her.

Keira was relieved he seemed to understand a little and that he appeared to believe in her sincerity. He even seemed to sense he could trust her now. It was a start at mending fences, she supposed.

"I can count on you to participate in our efforts to track down our spy?" he asked.

"Yes sir," she responded in earnest. If there was one person she wanted to get what was coming to him, it was that lying creep.

"Thank you. Both you and Sandu rest and get yourselves something to eat," Hawkins suggested. "We'll let you know when we're ready to proceed."

With that, he turned and left. Keira's relief only lasted a short moment for Jeff and Lisa approached next. There was no mistaking the contempt and mistrust coming from the Air Team Leader, and Keira felt another wave of guilt and shame wash over her. Though he said nothing, he didn't have to - his glare said it all. Fortunately, he passed her by to be by Sandu's side. They soon left together, Keira overhearing something about grabbing a bite, which left her alone with Lisa.

Lisa, in the meantime, sat down gently beside Keira on the bed and gathered Keira's hands into her own. "Don't mind him," Lisa assured her, referring to Jeff. "He gets a little overly…intense about things sometimes, but he'll come around."

Keira didn't know what to say and simply offered a weak smile in response.

"Oh, look at your dress," Lisa remarked as she took in the torn and soiled garment.

"It's not mine anyway," Keira confessed with an embarrassed laugh. "I stole it from a store in town – right before…" she trailed off, thinking back to her odd behavior and how she was so sure the seer's words were coming true before her eyes – or so it seemed. It really hadn't been like her at all.

Lisa patted Keira's hand gently. "It's okay," she assured her. "I may have something you can wear."

"I was told the two of us are going to help identify a spy," Keira noted nervously.

Lisa nodded and reached for a zippered pouch on the stand by the bed. "I know what will make you feel better." Rolling up her sleeves, Lisa opened the bag and began to rummage through it, and Keira could see it was full of assorted cosmetics. "I was in here earlier," she explained, "and being able to freshen up a little always raises my spirits. And don't worry about the spy – we've been on heightened alert and the teams will keep us safe."

Up close, Keira could see the areas of Lisa's exposed arms were still holding evidence of quite an injury – puncture wounds that were freshly scarred over - and she couldn't help but admire the woman's strength to overcome it and the unassuming grace with which she did it. Keira wondered if the spy had done that to her. After all, the woman must have had some contact with the spy to be taking part in the ID of him as well.

Lisa pulled out a compact and proceeded to fill the pad with powder. "Your skin is a lot darker than mine, so I'm not sure how well this will work, but we can see. May I?" she asked before she attempted to make-up Keira.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Keira asked, but not with suspicion. Her tone was more filled with amazement than anything.

"Why not?" Lisa replied with a sympathetic smile.

* * *

Dorma moved quickly along the dusty streets below the surface of Drule, crumbling buildings towering high above her. She'd heard murmurings of Hazar's return out on the street, and she knew she couldn't stay in hiding forever – he'd need her help. Plus, she had yet to find her father and each hour that passed made that meeting a more dangerous one as surely her family's home would be the first place they'd look for her. She'd found a discarded cloak some time ago and was using it to obscure her identity as best she could even though it was late and the streets were nearly empty.

_The eyes of the Drule government, they never rest, _she thought bitterly while chancing a glance up at a light post that had a camera affixed to it.

Before Dorma knew what was happening, someone grabbed her from a darkened side street and pinned her up against a building, stifling her cries with his hand. Once Dorma's eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, she relaxed.

"Father!" she exclaimed after he removed his hand from her face. "I thought…well, I'm sure you've heard by now," she finished weakly.

"You're in a lot of trouble, young lady." The admonishment made her feel like a little girl again and she sighed, not knowing what to say for herself. She wondered if it would do any good to tell him about the rebellion at all, even. "Throk isn't dead, but they're looking for you. And they're bringing Hazar back. They believe the two of you conspired to kill Throk. You're both going to be tried for attempted murder and treason."

Dorma studied her father's stern, aged face. It was hard to read him sometimes, and right now she couldn't decide if he was more upset with her or the situation. "Hazar had nothing to do with this," she explained.

"So you did?"

Mozak's penetrating stare was impossible to ignore. "I – " she stumbled, grasping for where to begin. "It's complicated, father."

He nodded slowly. "I'm sure it is. But you know what's going to complicate matters for you? This rebellion 'rumor' has got the Council up in arms – they're going to make an example out of this and out of you and Hazar."

"Do they think we're in with the rebels?" Dorma asked before thinking.

Mozak arched a brow. "Not yet," he answered simply. "But if they make two of their own pay dearly for treason, I'm sure commoners thinking like thoughts will want to think twice. Or so I would assume this to be the Council's logic."

Dorma took a deep breath. "Do you share their way of thinking, father?"

Mozak paused thoughtfully before answering. She knew the old man was no fool and that he likely had an inkling of how deep into it she was. "I think you know I haven't seen eye to eye with this government for a long time. Especially after what they did to your brother when he finally got brave enough to say what people like myself have been thinking. But I'm old, child…"

He looked away out toward the street, and Dorma thought she saw the glint of a tear forming in his eye. She bowed her head, feeling so much like weeping herself.

"I want you to know, father, that whatever I've done, it was for the good of all. No matter what happens or what they'll say, I would never shame our family name," Dorma explained, her voice cracking with emotion.

Mozak laid a hand on her shoulder and gently pulled her in for a hug. After squeezing her tightly, he released her and looked upon her face with the pride and affection only a father could muster. "I could never be ashamed of you and Hazar," he assured her.

With that, he turned to go. He had almost disappeared into the shadows when he turned to say one last thing. "I'd appreciate those papers back that you took from my office when you have a chance. They were my only copies that I took from the Council Building, and once they figure out they're missing then I'm going to be in a bit of trouble myself."

Dorma's eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed. Indeed the man was no fool. At a loss for words, she nodded numbly and then stared after his form until it was gone. She stayed in that alley for a moment, reflecting on and taking comfort in the wider meaning of his comment. If he'd taken the documents she'd swiped without consent, which means he didn't know the truth about the planet's deteriorating condition and he was the good-hearted man she always thought he was. The only thing she wondered is what he had planned to do with them…

* * *

At long last, Sven had the Explorer in sight, though he missed Planet Pollux already. It'd been a long flight, even at the amazingly high speeds his shuttle was equipped to run at, and to say he had jet lag would be putting it mildly. Therefore, he was more than a little relieved to find the radar quiet and see the Explorer and her fleet cruising through space in relative tranquility. He'd seemed to be lucky enough to arrive during a lull in the action.

_Good_, he thought, _maybe I'll have some time to relax and shake this weariness off before I'm actually needed._

Though he realized there'd be briefings and training to do. But it never hurt to hope.

The Explorer resembled a space-worthy aircraft carrier, and Sven guided his craft onto the long landing strip that comprised the front 1/3 of the mighty vessel. Slowing, he cruised into the docking bay and at long last could shut the engines down. Looking out the canopy, he could see two figures in Alliance issued brown uniforms waiting for him to disembark, along with who he guessed was the leaders of the Voltron Teams present on the Explorer – two of whom he recognized from his Academy days back at Galaxy Garrison. Even from this distance, he could tell Jeff and Cliff had changed little, at least in their appearances. Though he would venture to guess the war with the Drule Empire had changed them in other ways, much like himself and the Lion Force back in the Denubian Galaxy.

As he got out and made his way toward the men who were there to greet him, he noticed the specialized vehicles parked in groups of five in the hangar. No doubt, he figured, the very ships that could join to comprise the Garrison's own version of Voltron that was based on the Arusian one.

He hoped he didn't look as tired as he felt. "Sven Helgeson reporting for duty," he introduced himself, surprised at how dry and cracked his voice sounded.

The tall dark-haired officer extended his hand to Sven first. "Commander Hawkins," the man replied, his voice deep and quite commanding of itself.

Sven took his hand firmly and nodded.

"This is Captain Newley," Hawkins went on, gesturing toward the other man in brown. "And you may know some of our team leaders here – Jeff, Cliff and Cric."

"I do," Sven confirmed, offering a tired smile in their direction.

Once all the introductions and handshakes were out of the way, Sven was briefed on the situation as well as warned about the security problem on board the Explorer. Indeed it was every bit of the mess the Garrison hinted at when he got the call to come lend a hand.

"I understand you used to pilot one of the Lions in the Arusian Voltron," Hawkins remarked as he led the group of men over to where the five units comprising the Land Team's vehicles were docked.

"Used to?" Cric wondered aloud. "What happened?"

Sven shrugged. "I got hurt fending off the old witch Haggar. While I was gone and on the mend, Arus' Princess Allura took my place and I just never went back to it after I healed," he explained keeping the story short and skipping over the unpleasant stint in the Pit of Skulls. "I preferred to stay on Arus' sister planet, Pollux, to help defend it against our mutual enemy – Zarkon and his lot on Planet Doom."

"A witch?" Cliff echoed with some disbelief. "At least we don't have to deal with any Drule Voodoo in this part of the galaxy," he added gratefully.

They all gathered around the ship that forms one of Voltron's feet, which would normally be piloted by Hutch. "Ironic then, that you've been called upon to sub for an injured pilot," Hawkins remarked. "Our Voltron, while employing the basic concepts and much of the weaponry of the Arusian original, is quite different as you can see. Instead of five Lions that combine, we have 15 specialized space vehicles that combine. While, Dr. Loring's design does afford us certain advantages over the legendary Lion Voltron – such as we can form Voltron with a part or two missing sometimes if we must – there's other not-so-advantageous facts about this version."

"So you could form Voltron without this ship," Sven guessed, gesturing toward Hutch's spacecraft.

Cliff fielded this one. "We could, technically, being it is just the foot – we've even gone headless before," he added, shooting an amused grin Jeff's way. "While it is possible and often better than no Voltron at all, the thing is, it's not as effective. It's only when all fifteen parts come together that Voltron is at his best. We've got limited stored energy to work with as it is when we're combined so we usually like to go in at optimal strength if we can help it."

"And with how aggressive the Drules have been lately," Cric added, "we need every advantage we can get."

Sven nodded. It made sense to him.

"What's worse," said Newley, "is we're in an area where what few allies we might have counted on aren't sure what to make of the mess at Rilo – I'm sure you got the briefing on that from Galaxy Garrison. We were on our own in the last battle and that nearly cost us. We can't afford to be vulnerable in any other way. We barely have enough time to patch up Voltron before the next wave hits as it is. He's taken a beating."

He looked the unit over, and marveled at how different it was from the lion he once flew. This particular part would fit right in on any highway back home on Earth if not for its oversized proportions.

"You'll be on Cliff's team," Newley said, "as part of the land unit. We've got a uniform and helmet ready for you along with scheduled flight and formation drills. Of course, we'll let you rest up first."

Sven couldn't help but look markedly relieved.

"Cliff will show you to your quarters," Hawkins said, "and brief you on a few things specific to this particular craft before your first drill."

Dismissed, Sven followed Cliff to his designated quarters and tried to focus his tired mind on what the land team leader was telling him. It was a lot to take in at once and Sven wondered how long he'd be on this detail. And how soon before he could go back to Pollux.

* * *

Nerok stormed into the Council Building, where Hazar was already inside in a hearing before the Supreme Council, only to be turned away by the guards at the door to the Council Room. The meeting, it seemed was a closed one. But at least that meant Twila wasn't in there running her mouth yet.

Adding to Nerok's irritation was the presence of Twila, who was loitering outside the Council Room, sure enough. Even Nerok wouldn't usually stoop so low as to strike a woman, but he had the urge to punch that woman's teeth out. Yet, he restrained himself.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped at her.

She smiled sweetly. "I thought the council might be interested in hearing why your last trip was such a failure, and that your brilliant spy isn't so much."

Nerok shook with anger. "Woman," he seethed through gritted teeth, "if you bring those lies to the Council table, I'm going to break your jaw."

Twila's response – to laugh derisively to show she was clearly unimpressed with the threat – infuriated Nerok more. But then he realized that his reactions were only feeding into her little game. So he decided to switch tacks.

"I think," he said coolly, "the Council will be more interested in how my plans for Hazar would help them flush out those irritating little rebels."

Just the way she stood with her hands on her hips, looking down her nose at him made Nerok want to spit nails. "Oh? Well, that'll be really interesting as long as you're not sharing the gallows with Hazar after I'm done in there."

He couldn't help it – that woman had a way of getting to him. _Every bone in her body_, he fumed, _that's what I'm going to break._

Nerok hadn't taken two steps toward her when the building began to shake violently and then started to crumble around them at a frightening pace.

_Rebels! They dare strike the council building!_

He tried to run out, but the blinding and choking dust slowed him too much, and he soon found himself under a pile of heavy debris when the tremor was over.

Nerok was still conscious. Other than a few shouts and some moaning, along with the sound of debris settling, was all that could be heard. Nerok himself could do little more than grunt, the weight bearing down on him was so strong from whatever had landed atop him. He couldn't even get enough air in his lungs to cough, though he wanted to badly.

Agonizing minutes passed and no help seemed to arrive. All the while it was getting harder and harder for Nerok to breathe. Finally, he saw in the settling dust and emergency lights, a slight figure approach him. His relief was soon replaced by horror as he realized it was a bruised and battered Twila. But surely she'd help a fellow officer…

"Help me," he wheezed out, the fingers on his outstretched arms reaching out toward her boots. The weight of the debris on his back was becoming unbearable. Other than his arms and his head, he couldn't budge.

It seemed like Twila stared down at him forever. She bent down and swiped a blinking communicator that Nerok had dropped. And then, without a word she left him there to draw his last agonizing breaths.

* * *

Word spread fast around the Explorer – Hutch was coming to, slowly coming back to the world of consciousness. It wasn't long before his recovery room was full of his teammates and other well-wishers. They were glad they were able to greet him, given the decision to leave him behind at the base was nixed – even with the spy about and the attempt on his life – in favor of having the specialists come to him and simply increase security. The reasoning being, having one's loved ones around for support was often as critical to a patient's recovery as competent medical care. The move now seemed to pay off, finally.

"Hey, buddy," Cliff said as Hutch's lids fluttered open. "Welcome back."

Hutch was still hooked up to a respirator, so he couldn't reply if he'd wanted to, but his reaction seemed to communicate that he heard and understood his teammate. Which pleased the doctor immensely.

"It'll be a long while before he's off the respirator, much less cleared for flight," the doctor reminded them. "But he's out of the woods now. In large thanks to Lisa who alerted us to the tampering done to his IV. He shows great cognitive response so I think he'll be alright."

The room erupted in cheers as Lisa flushed at the attention.

Soon the teams dispersed to leave Hutch's closest friend and teammate, Marvin, to catch him up on what had happened since he was injured. Lisa, though glad she'd done what she'd done, was glad she was no longer the center of attention. Having the spotlight was never something she was ever comfortable with, and she thought she'd head off to one of the lounges and rest a while for her own healing injuries were starting to get the best of her.

She assumed the others would head off to the cafeteria to celebrate the good news about Hutch, so finding a quiet place wouldn't be too hard. Though she was also mindful not to get too isolated either, being a key witness to the upcoming voice line-up. Not that she had to worry – the first lounge she came to was the one that had been used as Keira's temporary quarters from before, and in there she found Jeff. He was alone, standing in front of the window and looking out at the stars.

"Hey," she said softly when she got close, and felt a little bad when he startled. She hadn't meant to sneak up on him, but she figured he must have been pretty deep in thought.

"Lisa," he greeted her warmly and with a smile as soon as he realized what was going on. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she said honestly, while she gently eased herself onto the soft cushion of a loveseat nearby.

"You should be takin' it easy," he replied, his genuine concern touching.

She patted the cushion beside her, beckoning him to sit. He needed no further coaxing. "That's really something about Hutch. I'm so glad he'll pull through."

"Yeah, me too," Jeff agreed.

Lisa didn't realize her next move sent out an odd signal until she noticed the look on Jeff's face as she zipped the front of her uniform down a bit. She flushed a little as she searched for the charm that hung around her neck.

"I know Shannon says I'm too superstitious, among other things," she explained while unclasping the chain and producing the item with its beautiful crystalline charm from around her neck. "But I brought this gem with me from my home world on this journey because my people believe it gives good luck. It's a moonstone." She held it out for his inspection. The starlight coming through the window glinted off the stone, making it luminescent.

"I-it's pretty, Lisa," he replied, and she could tell he couldn't figure where she was going with the story. And she was also pretty sure Jeff didn't believe in charms or fate or anything of the sort. But she did and that's why she was doing this.

"I really believe this charm saved me during that fight with the robeast where I got hurt. You have to admit it was pretty miraculous that the worse didn't happen," she told him.

Jeff nodded solemnly, waiting for her to go on.

"But I want you to have it now." She took one of his hands and pressed the necklace into his palm, then folded his fingers over it. "I know, maybe you don't believe in that stuff, but it would make me feel better if you had it now." She was thinking back to her conversation with Cric earlier and, maybe she was reading too much into it, but she had a scary feeling it was more than the concept of true love that had him telling her to enjoy their love while they had the chance.

"Okay," he said, still clasping the gem in his fist, though obviously still quite uncertain.

"Thank you. And thank you for not making fun of me," she added with a little laugh.

"Nah, we still got Hutch around for that."

Lisa laughed more as she sank back into the soft, inviting cushions of the loveseat and once again became aware of just how exhausted she really was. "You won't feel terribly offended if I fall asleep, will you?"

"No, not at all." He then pulled her close to him and she did not resist. His warmth was welcome and in his arms she felt safe as she dozed off peacefully. Cric was right – when she wasn't making things up to be complicated it just felt right.

* * *

What was a turn of very bad luck for Nerok turned out to be a blessing for Hazar. The Council Building, though not totally collapsed, was heavily damaged, and the commotion allowed him a chance to escape being that he was among the lucky not killed or trapped by parts of the falling structure.

Furthermore, it was clear his "trial" was even more of a joke than the first that had gotten him exiled. The Council was panicked – their losses to the Alliance while the Space Explorers crept ever-closer to their world, the rumored rebellion and growing unrest among others such as himself and Mongo, along with the reality of their dying planet was getting to be too much. And Hazar could see the writing on the wall. They weren't interested in what really happened to Throk or why. They simply wanted a scapegoat to make an example out of before they lost what little control they had left over the citizens. The same citizens Hazar were only interested in evacuating and saving.

Normally, Hazar wouldn't slink off like some common criminal, but he realized he couldn't do his people any good locked up – or worse. And clearly, that's where those proceedings were going. So with the dust and chaos as his cover, Hazar snuck out and made his escape, unsure of just where he was going to go. That is, until a cloaked figure approached him. The woman spoke his name and Hazar recognized the voice immediately.

She pulled him aside in time to avoid the troop of Drule soldiers and tanks that were rushing to the scene at the Council Building. They huddled in the shadows for a moment before Hazar spoke.

"What happened?" he asked, as he thought perhaps it was the rebels as well.

Dorma looked up at him perplexed. "How should I know? The whole city shook more violently than ever before. I thought it was over," she added bluntly.

"Everyone thinks the rebels hit the Council Building. But if this thing was city-wide…"

Dorma nodded. "Trust me, it wasn't us. Although I almost wish it was. Do you know what this means?" She looked at him with eyes wide with fear. "It's happening, Hazar. Sooner than anyone thought it would. Our world…it's in its death throes."

Hazar closed his eyes, overwhelmed with it all. How could they all possibly evacuate in time now? Especially with the mad men still in power? He or Dorma would be arrested before they could do much of anything in public. It seemed so utterly hopeless.

Hazar's eyes shot open as an idea came to him. "We need the Alliance," he said simply. "We've got to get an S.O.S. out to them and hope they think it sincere."

Dorma didn't argue, likely seeing the need for as many ships as they can get to move such a large population overriding any xenophobic fears. "I think I know where we can try that," she offered.

"Good," Hazar replied. "While they're on their way we have work to do. We're going to have to stage a coup."

Dorma looked at him a long moment before slowly nodding. Though to him, she had the look of a woman who had just signed her own suicide note.

"You understand, don't you?" he asked, but as much explaining to convince himself it had to be done as it was for her benefit. Besides, they already had it in for them, so they might as well try. "They'll never let the Alliance help us, even if this planet is crumbling around them. They're too full of pride and fear. We have to get them out of power so we can do what we have to for our people. If that makes us traitors…" he trailed off, letting the implication speak for itself.

Dorma reached out and grabbed his hand. "Come on, we've got to take advantage of the fact that their attention is on the Council Building. Let's go!"

They turned to go when two figures emerged in their path. Hazar was ready to fight his way past until he realized who they were – his own parents.

"Thank the stars we found you here," Mozak said. "And Hazar – you escaped!"

Both he and Dorma gasped when they got a good look at what condition their parents were in as they came into better light.

"What happened?" Dorma pleaded, rushing to their side. "Did the tremor get the house?"

Mozak shook his head bitterly. "Worse. They came by looking for you, Dorma. They were already there terrorizing your mother when I got back."

Hazar could guess who "they" were. The Empire had surely lost its mind if it was now stooping to roughing-up its senior citizens.

"It ends tonight," Hazar said with determination. "Let's go. We've got a message to get to the Explorer."

* * *

Jeff sat holding Lisa for quite a while, and though he was grateful for the opportunity to have her so close along with her willingness to be held, he couldn't help but feel a little confused. At least, after the way she'd ran out of the room at the gala when he was so bold as to kiss her, he wasn't sure what to make of the mixed signals. Maybe he was just moving too fast for her before.

He could tell by her soft, even breaths she was asleep, and Jeff used the arm he had wrapped around her to give her a quick, affectionate squeeze and press her closer to him. He was more than just intrigued or crushing on her at this point. Jeff was in love, and for the first time. Sure, he'd dated others back home and had fond memories of some of those girls. But this certainly felt different. The defining moment, he supposed, was when he thought he'd witnessed the destruction of the Aqua Fighter a few battles ago, and Lisa with it. He felt a sorrow he never thought possible just in that instant, and by contrast, and equally unmatched joy when he realized they made it – and more importantly, she made it – out alive.

However, he wanted to tread lightly, for if nothing else worked out between them, he didn't want their friendship to be sacrificed. The other stuff, he was less concerned about – such as what everyone else thought. And he certainly hadn't clued in to how Ginger factored into it all, as focused as he'd been on Lisa.

He was going to simply try to enjoy the moment and peace and quiet for what it was. It seemed to be over all too soon, when Ginger breezed through the doorway. Jeff made no attempt this time to hide what was going on, and simply regarded Ginger like it was no big deal. For Ginger's part, if it bothered her, she wasn't showing it outwardly.

"Here you are," she remarked casually enough. Though Jeff thought he detected a little waver in her tone. "The Commander wants to see you."

Jeff gently moved Lisa as not to wake her, leaving her still upright but leaning against the loveseat for support, so he could get up. Ginger picked up on his questioning glance.

"Don't worry, I'll stay with her. She's going to be needed soon anyway – Keira's in right now trying to identify the spy by voice." Ginger explained. "Just get going – it's urgent, whatever it is. He's in the conference room." Ginger sat down softly next to the slumbering Lisa and offered Jeff a quick smile of support.

Jeff put the charm Lisa had given him around his neck before thanking Ginger and heading out to meet Hawkins.

He entered the room to find Hawkins and the other team members already gathered.

"Glad you could make it," Cliff cracked, eyeing the gem around Jeff's neck. "Big line at the costume jewelry shop?"

Jeff shot Cliff a look that communicated something along the lines of a _give me a break_ kind of sentiment. "Yeah, your mother was there making a big stink over that ugly thing you got her that she was trying to return," he shot back.

Hawkins cleared his throat. "If you two are done, I'd like to get to the point." After some muttered apologies, he continued. "First of all, we've found that my office has indeed been bugged and are meeting here for this room has been cleared as secure. You probably also already know that Keira is in the lower deck, trying to ID our spy by voice alone. We may or may not be able to trust her with this, but we also have Lisa to hopefully corroborate what Keira may reveal. All personnel on board will have to go through the process, including the Voltron Force."

Jeff couldn't believe his ears. "Sir, you can't possibly think-"

"Honestly, Jeff, I don't," Hawkins interrupted. "But we need to clear the teams on some kind of evidentiary level. And if you're worried Keira might finger one of you as some sort of new way to cause trouble, don't worry – it won't stick unless Lisa can back her up. We've just called up the bridge staff to go through the process. We're trying to first hit the people most likely to have had the kind of knowledge the spy seems to have, given the security clearance and electronics know-how he or she has displayed. The laundry crew and maids, therefore, are not first priority as you might imagine."

Jeff relaxed a little. At least that much made sense.

Cric didn't seem concerned. "Sounds fair enough to me. Have we learned any more about Keira or her people?"

Hawkins nodded. "In fact, we have. Turns out they did draw blood when we first brought Keira on board and DNA analysis confirms what Newley had first suspected when he briefed us before – she's indeed descended from the people who long-ago commandeered that prison shuttle. So all our hunches about their aversion to advanced technology was correct and all but guarantees nothing she pulled off before she'd done on her own. Now that she's cooperating, she confirms much of this as well."

"And what of the survivors from her world?" Cliff wondered.

Hawkins sighed. "As you might have guessed, we've been trying to track them and bring them to safety, but they've not been too responsive. There's not too many left, from what we can gather. It's very discouraging and discomforting news. But that's not the least of the reasons I've called you all in here."

Jeff definitely didn't like the sound of this!

Hawkins studied his team leaders closely before he went on. "We've gotten a call from Commander Hazar, from planet Drule itself."

The team leaders gaped at one another wondering what this was leading to.

"Earlier intelligence told us he'd been demoted for trying to make a genuine peace with us. But it seems he's been brought back to Drule and not only is he in peril, but of more concern to him is the fate of his people. His world, it's dying faster than they'd all thought."

Jeff was the first to break the stunned silence that followed. "And….what can we do?"

Hawkins looked at Jeff levelly. "We haven't gotten final orders from Galaxy Garrison yet, but I think it's very likely that you must prepare yourself for a visit to Drule, a move which will be viewed as an invasion by their high command, I'm sure. However, we cannot in good conscience turn Hazar away or let the Drule citizenry perish."

"Hazar has indeed proven himself trustworthy," Cric began carefully, "but this is a task we don't seem equipped to carry out, with all due respect sir."

Cliff chimed in as well. "I agree. Even if we **do** make it to the surface of their world without being torn to ribbons, we don't have enough transports in this quadrant to evacuate a whole planet, do we sir?"

Hawkins handled the doubts with amazing patience. "Even so, we have to try to do what we can and pray another fleet can reach us in time to get as many people as we can. Even if we can't save them all, it's better than nothing. In the meantime, Hazar has assured us that he and a group of citizens – a band called the URF that we've also had some intelligence on for some time – are going to try to do what they can against those who are in power in the hopes that we won't meet with too much resistance upon our arrival. They'll also try to take as many of their own ships as possible to aid in their own evacuation."

Jeff didn't feel at all comforted by the notion. The idea that a band of rebels were going to put enough dents in the Drule power structure to make a difference in time wasn't a likely one. They'd been fighting the same tyrants for more than a year! He supposed this was as good a time as any to start believing in lucky charms. They would need it.

"In the meantime, I want Cliff to take Sven out and run drills with the rest of the Land Team. He's definitely got to get used to piloting Hutch's vehicle. Later on, all teams will practice together, including the forming of Voltron." Satisfied the teams had nothing more to say in protest, Hawkins sent them on their way. "Oh, Jeff?" Hawkins called after the Air Team leader before he filed out the door behind his comrades.

Jeff turned to face Hawkins. "Yes, sir?"

"I forgot to add, you're being reinstated as leader of the Voltron Force for this mission, but you're also on probation – so don't get over zealous."

Jeff was stunned and at first, didn't know what to say. "Thank you, sir." He managed.

"Don't thank me, you earned it."

Jeff exited the room feeling invigorated despite the ominous mission ahead, and decided to head down to where Keira was likely making the voice ID's, and wondering if Lisa had already been awakened to prepare for her part in the task. Besides, it'd likely be his turn to go soon, although he hoped they got the guy before he had to do so.

Jeff walked on, and eventually found himself in a quiet and lonely corridor as he continued to mull things over. Slowing his pace, Jeff realized he wasn't so alone when he heard a man's voice, though lowered, from around the corner. Some manner of instinct told Jeff to stop and listen. He leaned his back against the wall near where the hall intersected with the next, and strained to hear what was being said.

"They're closing in on me," Jeff could hear the man tell somebody. "I've got to leave, but you need to promise me asylum," the man demanded. "Ok, fine, **he** promised me asylum but woman, your whole damn Empire owes **me**," Jeff heard the man insist. "That information was bad, I know, but I didn't know it at the time. But I still got that ship to you because of things **I** know – it's not my fault Nerok couldn't keep it in his possession. Believe me, you still need me, especially if you want to have a prayer when they invade your planet."

Jeff scowled, as even in the hushed state, the voice was very familiar. His heart raced for he knew the man who had long betrayed everyone on that ship was around the corner. He briefly considered going back for help, but this was his chance to make sure the traitor paid – for all he'd done to Hutch, to Lisa – hell, even to Keira for poisoning her mind against them. If he left now, he risked the man getting away as it was clear he was spooked and ready to run.

Taking his pistol out of its holster, Jeff slowly crept around the corner. Since he could not hear anyone replying to the man, he was fairly certain the spy must have been tele-communicating with his conspirators. Sure enough, there was nobody else in the corridor and as luck would have it the spy's back was to Jeff.

Jeff couldn't help but feel a stab of disgust at the man, wearing the brown Alliance uniform and disgracing it so. Silently he crept into the corridor with the man and leveled his pistol at him.

"Forget about that. I already made it worth your while," the man continued, oblivious so far to Jeff's presence. "Hawkins won't live to command the invasion of Drule. I guarantee it – the clock is already ticking on his life. Now you owe it to me to welcome me with open arms when I get there. Don't double cross me – you'll regret it."

Jeff couldn't believe what he'd just heard and fought the urge to shoot the man in the back. "I'll save 'em the trouble," Jeff snarled, his pistol still aimed threateningly.

The man whirled around and looked genuinely shocked to find a gun less than an arm's length from his face.

Jeff let out a shocked gasp upon seeing the traitor's face. That moment of surprise was all the spy needed to take advantage, and before Jeff could get a shot off, his pistol was knocked clear. The two then fought hand to hand, trading blows – each fighting deftly for their own life.

But the traitor fought better than Jeff would have expected, further amplifying the feeling that this was a man Jeff really never knew at all. The man twisted him with a hold impossible for Jeff to struggle out of while trying to squeeze the very breath out of him with his bare hands. In the struggle, the moon stone charm Lisa had given him was ripped from around his neck and scattered across the corridor where it came to rest against the wall.

Jeff pulled, dug and grabbed at his assailants hands to no avail. He was also unable to writhe out from under the man's body weight. It was no use.

"You arrogant pilots, you're all alike," the spy grunted as he squeezed his hands tighter around Jeff's throat. "Bet you wish you didn't play hero now."

Jeff could only gasp and wheeze in response.

All of Jeff's fear and anger began dissipating as his breath left him and he became light-headed. He had not the strength to struggle any longer and one last shock of panic lit through him as he realized he was fast losing his conscious grip on the world. He found the dream-like images that flashed through his mind strangely comforting. They were memories – mental snapshots from his life – and the final one before the world went dark was of Lisa's beautiful, soft face.

...TO BE CONTINUED


	11. The Beaten Generation Part II

**Winning Days**

Book IV: The Beaten Generation, Part II

By Purrsia Kat

With the Land Team out in space running maneuvers with their fill-in pilot, Sven, the Sea and Air teams were called to the lower decks to wait their turns at the voice line-up. One by one, the team members gathered outside a conference room, with Lisa and Ginger arriving first. Lisa, of course, didn't have to go in herself, but she did need to prepare to listen after Keira was through.

"This is silly," Lisa told Ginger as they waited outside the room where the line-up was taking place. "I know it wasn't any of the team."

Ginger just shrugged. "Then I guess none of us has anything to worry about. I wonder if Keira already identified someone."

Soon everyone seemed accounted for except for one person – Jeff. Both girls noticed his conspicuous absence but it was Cric who vocalized it.

"Where's Jeff?" he wondered, looking down the corridor as if expecting Jeff to round the corner in the next instant.

Ginger shook her head. "He went to see the commander the last I know."

"I was there at the meeting, too," Cric affirmed. "But after we left, I don't know where he went. It's not like him to be this late."

"Maybe he's the spy," Shannon quipped, but recoiled a bit when his jest wasn't received in good humor by his teammates.

Lisa looked down the long, empty expanse of corridor. "Or maybe something's wrong," she countered with a frown, her hand instinctively going up to her neck where her moonstone necklace would normally hang. Of course, she'd given it to Jeff earlier. She found herself hoping it was giving him the luck it was known for on her world.

She glanced at Ginger, whose worried expression matched Lisa's own, and both women knew what had to be done. "Let's go," Ginger urged.

"If the Commander asks, let him know we'll be back soon," Lisa told the others.

"Are you serious?" Shannon asked incredulously. "The guy's a bit late and we're going to call out a search party?"

Cric was silent for a moment, his expression turning soft and thoughtful. The girls had paused, waiting for him to speak.

"I too feel something isn't right," Cric began carefully, and winced slightly at how the girls reacted for he likely just made their fears multiply ten-fold. "But I also say, they shouldn't go alone. Not with this treasonous spy among us. We've seen what he tried to do to Hutch, not to mention he attacked Lisa before, too. And now that she may be one of only two people to be able to identify him, she should be looked after as much as possible. The guy will stop at nothing."

Rocky scratched his head. "But we got an order from Hawkins to be right here."

"Then you and Shannon and anyone else who wants to can stay – I'm going with Lisa and Ginger," Cric replied.

Shannon snorted. "Won't you lot feel silly when you find he's been on the crapper or something."

Lisa rolled her eyes at the notion.

"It's nice to know that with Hutch too sick to speak, we still have a resident smart ass on deck," Ginger shot back, to which Shannon took a brief bow.

With that, the trio left to search for their missing comrade.

* * *

Even amid the chaos and disorder, Twila managed to clean herself up enough to be presentable when she met with Throk – although it took much convincing to get his entourage to even entertain why she needed to see him. He'd been under heavy protection since Dorma went on her homicidal rampage.

The area of the underground city where Throk was staying survived the last violent tremor well and Twila was grateful for it – no doubt a testament to the fine and strong construction reserved for the structures designed to house the upper echelon of the Drule hierarchy. To Twila, it was one less thing to worry about, as surely having a building come down around oneself was not her idea of a party. She felt free enough to focus her mind on what she needed to do now. With Nerok out of the way and his spy now on her payroll things would surely start to look up. At least, this is what she chose to concentrate on. She gave herself the creeps if she considered the ambiance on Drule exuded much more than a rising panic and fear among its citizens…something darker was lurking in the heart of the planet as well as its people.

The guards outside Throk's building let her pass without much trouble, and Twila decided to take the stairs up – she didn't want to chance being in the elevator if another tremor hit regardless of the seeming sturdiness of the structure.

It was a credit to the shape she was in that she arrived timely and barely winded from the effort. The floor was oddly deserted, and Twila had to fight her nagging intuition once more. She would have expected a heavy guard presence on the floor. Nobody may have been visible, but that didn't stop her from feeling as if many eyes were upon her.

When she reached the door to his loft, she didn't even have to announce herself – it simply slid open, beckoning her inside.

Cautiously, she stepped inside and at first she didn't see anyone much less Throk among all the fine furniture and art in the room. Movement caught her eye, as Throk slowly swiveled around in a chair on the far side of the room to reveal himself.

"Welcome, Twila," he greeted her, his tone low and pleasant enough, though she sensed a hint of irritation in it.

Instinctively, she straightened her back and squared her shoulders in an effort to make her stride across the room appear as confident as possible. Being among the few female captains in the Drule forces, Twila learned early on not to show any fear or weakness. She never did feel comfortable around Throk, but she'd surely not let him know that if she could help it. She found the man creepy and it was no secret what a letch he was.

"Please sit," he said when she approached, gesturing to a chair across from him. "Have some wine if you'd like."

Twila eyed the half-empty bottle on the table near Throk and thought better of it. She was going to need her wits about her now more than ever.

"No, thank you," she replied, a bit more curtly than she'd intended, all the while keeping eye contact with Throk. She did, however, sit.

He ogled her shamelessly for a moment, and Twila tried not to show her irritation with the once-over. The worst part for her was his leering was so obvious she fought to stifle a sigh. It was times such as these she marveled at how it was men managed to stay in power. In the back of her mind, she was inclined to think that maybe Throk got what he deserved from Dorma.

"What happened to you?" he finally asked referring, no doubt, to the scrapes and bruises she sported. Not that he seemed particularly concerned, she noticed.

"I had the luck of being in the Council Building earlier."

She hadn't come there to make small talk, so she didn't feel like going into any more detail.

Throk took a sip from his wine glass. "I heard Nerok and a few others didn't make it out with their lives. A pity." His tone was anything but piteous.

"Too bad Hazar wasn't found among the dead," he added with enough vitriol that Twila almost shuttered.

She was certainly glad she wasn't on his list – Throk hadn't gotten where he was in the Drule chain of command being a nice guy. And experience showed her that once he had it in for you, you were apt to wish a building would crush the life out of you instead. She almost pitied Dorma as a result.

"Yeah, I got lucky," she replied casually, leaving out the small detail of how she watched Nerok take his last breath, or the fact that she got a strange enjoyment out of it.

"So what is this urgent matter of business you have to discuss with me? There's much going on, as I'm sure you noticed, so I don't have time for games." He leaned forward in his seat and peered at her closely but she did not shrink under his scrutiny. Rather, she met his piercing gaze head-on. "Is this really so important that one of the commanders can't handle it?"

Twila leaned in as a challenge. "I thought you might want to hear it first. I have found out that the Alliance is making preparations to invade Drule."

His wine glass hit the floor and shattered, but Twila never took her eyes off Throk.

"What?" he thundered, rising to his feet. "That's impossible! I told you I didn't have time for games, woman."

Twila noticed, as Throk raged, that he limited movement of one arm, no doubt from the stabbing. True, she'd heard he was stabbed in the chest, but apparently, moving his arm too much aggravated the injury.

_Weakness._ She fought back a wry smile.

She stood slowly, her expression remaining serious and determined. "It's not a game. And if you're not a fool, you'll heed the warning and make preparations," she added boldly.

His eyes narrowed to slits as she studied her, clearly still the skeptic. "How do you know this? How do they figure they're going to find Drule amid the asteroid belts? And even if they do get here, they won't know where to find us down here. You tell lies, woman. How dare you waste my time!"

"I have my sources," she replied calmly, even though his agitated state was starting to worry her. Twila eyed him levelly. "As for how they'd pull it off, Hazar's helping them."

Throk's jaw went slack. "Traitor!" he wailed.

"If you can't stop Hazar, prepare for the worse. Our home world situation will pale in comparison to what's about to happen. Imagine yourself living under Alliance rule, stripped of your power and your pride. Being helpless to watch them expand their sphere of influence in this galaxy until we have no identity left as a people."

Twila let a satisfied grin spread across her face while Throk busied himself with calling out on his communicator. She'd gotten to him just as she'd hoped.

"I want Hazar and his sister shot on sight," he simply said to the person on the receiving end before hanging up.

_Not even going to feign a trial this time_, Twila thought. _Impressive._

He then turned his attention back to her.

"I have to see the Emporer. You can see yourself out."

"You're welcome," she scoffed under her breath at his retreating form. It was no matter. She didn't expect credit or thanks for the information, really. But there is something she could do now that would undeniably make her service and loyalty to the Empire known, and then maybe she could finally get some due respect. And that something was to be the one to bring in Hazar's head on a platter.

* * *

Cliff thought the training exercises were going well. Sven was quick to learn and a hell of a pilot – surely not as rusty as the Commander had been, not that he dared comment aloud to that effect. He thought they'd soon be ready to practice with the other two teams and attempt forming Voltron. That would happen as soon as the spy business was sorted out, he assumed.

Flying in single formation just above where the Explorer drifted in space, Cliff noticed a fighter jet fly out of the docking bay and thought it odd for those usually only deployed to back-up the rest of the fleet during a Drule attack. And it was particularly odd to only see one launch, so it was safe for Cliff to assume there was no pending attack. The Commander soon came over his telecom to confirm his suspicions.

"Tail that jet," Hawkins told him. "It was an unauthorized launch, and what's worse is, we have a few dead dock guards left in the wake. That could be our traitor."

"Yes sir," Cliff replied. "It's a wonder he didn't try to take one of the Voltron units again. Now we could just shoot him down, couldn't we?"

"Last time the units were in for repairs, we had some modifications done so he couldn't do what he'd done before – or rather, used Keira to do before. Perhaps he knew that," Hawkins theorized, "and didn't have time to come up with a new device to override the modifications. Or the increased security on that side of the dock may have deterred him. Remember, not even the Voltron Force can take those ships out now without prior clearance. But we can't raise him on ultrawave or the telecom either – he's still hiding his identity from us."

"You sure it's not Keira in there?"

"I'm sure," Hawkins affirmed. "She's confirmed as still below deck, safe and sound, as is Sandu. Her lesson was hard learned."

"And use of force?" Cliff pressed.

"For right now, hold off on deadly force. Only fire on him if it seems he's going to get away or gets aggressive with you. We want to bring him in alive if possible," Hawkins replied.

As ordered, Cliff and his team stayed on the vessel, which tried desperately to shake them – all to no avail. Cliff could tell this guy wasn't the best pilot, but his skills were good enough to escape if they didn't stay on him.

The jet then turned in a wide arc and came back at the group of five Land Team vessels and fired at them. Shots grazed Cliff's unit and it angered him.

"Stay on this guy, team," Cliff radioed to his comrades. "He wants to play for keeps."

He again reiterated the commander's orders concerning the rogue vessel while they re-grouped and once again tailed it as it headed back toward the Explorer.

"What's he doing?" Modoch asked, and Cliff wondered the same thing. The missiles under each wing of the jet lowered, threatening to deploy - but not at Cliff and his team, rather at the Explorer.

Cliff knew two missiles wouldn't take out the entire ship – the Explorer was too massive of a ship to be taken out that easily - but if they were well-placed, they could take out a portion of it, doing considerable damage and taking untold lives among the crew. Cliff had an awful feeling stir in his gut as he thought of where the traitor could be aiming the missiles. Namely, where it would do the most damage - right at the protruding top deck where the bridge was located, and in all likelihood, where Commander Hawkins sat. Even worse, the Explorer couldn't pour on the firepower with them out there, too, without risk of hitting the Land units. They could try to maneuver out of the way, but there wasn't time for that.

"We're going to have to take him out," Cliff decided, but just as he was going to add not to completely destroy the jet, Marvin cut out ahead of the pack and fired.

The shots hit the jet just as the missiles were released, but Marvin's aim was true and hit the jet, disabling it enough to skew the path of the missiles. The Explorer itself was able to intercept one with firepower of its own, the flash from the explosion temporarily blinding Cliff.

When he could see again, he noticed the other missile did hit the upper deck of the Explorer, but luckily off course enough only to take out the upper portion of the spire. With any luck, nobody on the bridge was hurt.

The jet itself had seemingly flew through part of the first missile explosion and was flying erratically. It took a sharp dive and was on a crash course with the landing deck portion of the Explorer. It all happened so fast nobody had time to react.

Before he knew it, Cliff was blinded by another flash, this one caused by the jet meeting the Explorer's landing deck and disintegrating on impact.

That area of the Explorer took considerable damage but remained in flight and intact. One thing Cliff knew for certain, whoever had been in that jet was dead.

* * *

Twila tried to raise the spy on the device she'd stolen from Nerok to no avail. She'd hoped he could clue her in on where Hazar would likely be hiding out. She also knew the silence likely meant the spy's desperate departure was unsuccessful in some way, but it was no matter. He was becoming a liability anyway, and she surely didn't want to have him come to Drule and have to deal with harboring a backstabbing human. She preferred to use him at a distance, as any human was hard to trust let alone one that would ruthlessly betray his own kind.

She glanced up and down the dusty, deserted streets trying to sort out her next move. The hour was late, though underground it all looked the same no matter the time of day – drab, sparsely lit streets of stone, steel and dust. The level of activity was the real clue to the hour, and there wasn't much activity going on in the streets. The only sounds she could hear were some tanks in the distance, no doubt patrolling the streets looking for troublemakers, rebels or those two prize fugitives. Twila was determined to stay one step ahead of them.

It'd been hours since her meeting with Throk, and she was starting to think she wasn't going to find Hazar anywhere. She'd looked down every dark alley, in every abandoned structure – any place a fugitive might lay low – and found nothing but a few rodents and drunken vagrants for her trouble. One thing was certain – this part of the city was a far cry from the relative lap of luxury in which Throk and his ilk lived. But what better place to find a rat than among the poor, ignorant masses, she reasoned.

The sound of an approaching shuttle prompted Twila to take cover behind a steel pillar that was part of the building she was near. When the shuttle neared, it slowed down enough for her to glance around the corner and get a good look at the occupant. Though she wasn't lucky enough for Hazar, or even Dorma, to be inside she did recognize the man.

_Mongo, Hazar's best friend._ A small smile formed on her lips. _I'm sure he knows where to find Hazar._

The shuttle had slowed to make a turn down a side street, and Twila was determined to follow it. She dashed across the street after it, hoping it wouldn't go too fast that she wouldn't be able to keep up.

As luck would have it, the shuttle didn't go much farther, apparently due to the fact that the street narrowed too much for the shuttle to fit. She crouched behind a pile of old crates and other debris at the side of the street and waited for Mongo to exit and continue his journey on foot.

Her heart thumped furiously in her chest as she moved along the street stealthily behind Mongo, always keeping him in sight. She dared hope he'd be going to meet with Hazar. One thing was for sure – he was up to something underhanded as paranoid as he seemed to be behaving. But that was all the more reason she needed to plan her moves carefully. He mustn't realize she was following.

Eventually, the street narrowed into something more like an alley and it was there that Mongo stepped inside a darkened and seemingly abandoned structure.

_I knew it! _Twila thought as she cautiously followed.

There was no door for him to close, so Twila simply lurked and stayed low near the opening, peering around the corner. She saw a figure she was sure was Mongo approach someone else who was holding a candle, the flickering flame the only light in the structure. She could see the candle holder's face well and she was disappointed to see it was neither Hazar or Dorma – or really anyone she recognized. It appeared to be a simple commoner, though she could see he had quite a lot of weapons and ammo on him. She frowned, finding the rebellion of the citizenry staring her in the face quite disturbing. It was like a slap in the face how ungrateful the whole concept was to her.

But she controlled her emotions and listened hard, hoping to maybe hear them speak of Hazar and hint at his location – anything that would help her cause. But it was no use – they spoke too softly.

"You're a long way from the upper part of town."

The woman's voice from beside her startled Twila badly. She turned to see a pistol pointed at her face and gasped to note the holder of that pistol was none other than Dorma.

"Get up," Dorma ordered her coolly.

Twila slowly rose to her feet, keeping her hands up as if she planned to cooperate. "Threatening me with that gun is treason – you could hang for that."

Dorma appeared nonplussed by the possibility. "In case you haven't noticed, we can no longer afford to play the Empire's game."

"A game? Is that what it is? Prepare to lose, then. We've conquered entire worlds – whole races of people. Do you really think you, Hazar and a rag-tag bunch of disgruntled and ignorant citizens is really going to do anything but get yourselves killed?"

Dorma glared at Twila. "Wake up, fool. We're all dead unless somebody does something to evacuate us. The Empire seems in no rush to do so."

"What do you think we keep fighting the Alliance for? They're coming into our galaxy and trying to settle all the good worlds **we** need. If you and your idiot brother spent more time helping us drive the Alliance out instead of plotting against your own government, this war might be over by now and we could be evacuating. Where are we going to go, Dorma? Are we going to float around in space aimlessly with no food, no water, and no place to go?" Twila felt the anger at their disloyalty flaring up tremendously and she no longer cared about the pistol pointed at her. Besides, she didn't think Dorma had it in her to shoot one of her own. Twila knew Dorma had some combat training, but she also knew Dorma had rarely put it to use preferring to spend her time sponging off her daddy's good name and her own good looks to influence the Supreme Council. So if it came to the two of them battling it out one on one, Twila had no doubt she could best Dorma.

Dorma simply gestured for Twila to enter the building where Mongo had gone. Twila complied, but found her lack of an answer empowering.

"Oh, that's right. Your solution is to have the Alliance – our greatest enemy – come here and take over. Frankly, I would much rather die than surrender to them!" she railed as she approached Mongo and the rebel, who simply glanced at one another in reaction to her words.

"You're the ignorant one," Dorma countered. "You have no idea what's really going on with this planet or within the Empire, and you certainly don't have a clue about the Alliance or how they're going to help, not rule, us."

Twila stopped walking when she was in the middle of the room, surrounded by the rebellious trio. "You're not going to shoot me, so you might as well put that gun away," she stated matter-of-factly, looking to Dorma with assured and cool confidence.

"Is that right?" Dorma replied with her pistol still aimed menacingly in Twila's direction.

Twila saw a window of opportunity and sought to take full advantage of it – Dorma had made the mistake of standing too close to a well-trained soldier. With reflexes quicker than anyone had time to react against, Twila spun on her heel and kicked the gun free from Dorma's hand. A moment later, the room fell into utter darkness, no doubt due to the wise decision of the candle keeper to take away the only light source. However, Twila could make out a light gray rectangle that was the door, and she was determined to make her way there to escape.

But out of the darkness, a strong pair of arms grabbed her. They tumbled, fought and struggled for what seemed like the longest time. Yet in reality it was only seconds before Twila was able to free her own side arm, and with the man still cloying at her to keep her captive, she shoved the barrel into his body and fired. He instantly let her go, and she scampered to her feet, leaping over the threshold and into the warm night air. She ran as fast as she could back to where Mongo had parked his transport, all the while dodging laser fire herself. There was no time to return fire – her focus was on escape.

She was relieved to find the shuttle still had the canopy back, allowing her access. She climbed aboard, glancing back briefly to see Dorma still firing at her while in pursuit. The shots, however, bounced harmlessly off the vessel's sleek side. Twila closed the canopy and started the transport vessel. It rose slightly, hovering neatly a foot above the ground. Before taking off, she couldn't help but give the nearing Dorma a sarcastic little wave.

_Better luck next time, traitor._

* * *

The commotion of the jet crash drew Lisa, Ginger and Cric up to the bridge and away from their so-far fruitless search for Jeff. The lights in that area of the ship flickered on and off while some smoke wafted into the corridor. At one point, the Explorer shook violently and Lisa wondered if they shouldn't be dashing off to launch instead. Lisa hoped that maybe they'd find Jeff up there, too, wondering what was going on.

Her heart sank as she entered the bridge to find most of the usual crew there – some, no doubt, were still in the lower decks going through the line-ups - but no sign of Jeff. Though smoky on the bridge, her eye was then drawn outside to the launch deck and the smoking, black crater that was there. A group of tethered and suited rescue crew were already converging on the spot, and the Land Team zipped past them on their way back in.

It was Cric that asked what they all wanted to know. "What's going on?"

Newley fielded this one. "We had another unauthorized launch."

"Not another one of our ships," Ginger hoped.

Newley shook his head. "Not this time. But whoever took it, fired on the Land Team and the Explorer before crashing out there. I doubt the pilot survived."

"The spy?" asked Cric.

"Most likely," responded Hawkins, visibly a bit shaken from the recent events. "Unless he's gotten more help," he added grimly. "We won't know until we can identify the body."

"I'm afraid if neither of you have heard from Jeff since the meeting, we might have another problem," Cric began. That got Hawkins' and Newley's full attention.

"He never showed up to be prepped for the line-up. He's missing. We've been searching the ship, but so far he's not in any of the usual places – and even a few unusual ones."

"What?" Hawkins shouted. "How come I wasn't notified?"

"It didn't seem like a big deal, at first," Cric explained. "We thought maybe he'd just missed the call. But it's been some time and we were just about to come up and tell you about it when all this happened."

Lisa's stomach felt like it was in knots. Something like that jet crash should have drawn Jeff up there with them. The fact that he wasn't there worried her like never before and she could no longer make any plausible excuses in her mind as to why he would not be there. It wasn't like him not to be in the center of the chaos.

"Uh-oh," Newley added in a tone Lisa didn't like and her stomach did another somersault. He picked up a laser pistol that had been lying on the console in front of him that she recognized as the type issued to members of the Voltron Force. "I have a feeling if we do a poll, you'll all have your standard issue pistols."

Lisa almost hated to ask, but she had to know. "Where did you find that one?"

"Discarded in the launch bay. It was used to kill the guards in that area, presumably by the one who stole that jet. That much we could tell. Unfortunately, he shot out the security cameras, so we can't rely on the film to make an ID of the assailant."

The implication was unmistakable and Lisa felt sick to her stomach. Her eyes were drawn back out to the launch deck of the Explorer and the grisly recovery scene. Even if that was Jeff's pistol it just couldn't be true. She would never believe it.

"You don't think Jeff—" Cric replied with disbelief, as Cliff entered the bridge.

"What about Jeff?" Cliff inquired without introduction.

At this point, Lisa was no longer listening to the men discuss the evidence that Jeff might be missing because he could actually have some part in the horrible series of betrayals going on within the Explorer. She took a few foundering steps back toward the door, her visage that of shocked disbelief. Coming to her senses somewhat, she turned and dashed out of the bridge, her dark hair flowing behind her like a silky flag in the wind as she sprinted down the corridor.

_It can't be true_, she kept telling herself while blinking back tears.

She would never believe Jeff was a traitor, that he'd try to harm her or Hutch – it wasn't his voice she'd heard! Or did it have to be? What if he'd simply been a party to it, someone who had been giving aid to the spy? Lisa instantly hated herself for second guessing it, but her heart and mind reeled with confusion. She reminded herself of her budding feelings for Jeff and why she felt that way - she'd always seen a strength and conviction in him that she admired, a fearless sureness that nobody else on the team could match. Thinking of that convinced her that this man could not be capable of such treachery, that nobody could put on that convincing of an act. But then maybe her emotions were clouding her judgment.

What frustrated her above all, was she had been out of it when confronted by the spy anyway, given she'd been recovering from her own injuries, and couldn't be too sure either way. Perhaps it could have been Jeff and she just didn't want to see it then. It was no wonder they had Keira doing the line-up first – she'd talked to the man at length and while lucid. She barely let herself think that even if he wasn't the spy, maybe he was helping him. And perhaps Jeff put on such a show of resenting Keira simply because she was a threat to him.

_No! It can't be true! _She stopped and shook her head furiously as if to fling all the conflicting bad thoughts from her mind.

She'd find him. And she'd find out for herself.

* * *

"What happened?" Hazar asked, as he dropped what he'd been doing to come assist Baki and Dorma, who were carrying with some difficulty a very injured Mongo through the door.

Dorma stepped back, glad to let Hazar take over support of Mongo – it hadn't been easy carrying him the distance they had to go, and she only hoped they weren't followed. This wasn't their main station of operations, but it was a critical hideaway nonetheless.

She had to take a moment to catch her breath. "Twila was following him. I had her in our custody, but she escaped. And when he tried to stop her, she shot him."

The two men carried Mongo over to an old sofa and gently laid him down. "They already know the Alliance is coming," Mongo managed to wheeze out. He reached out and gripped Hazar's arm as well as he could, beckoning him to lean in closer. "I did get that last communication off to them like you'd wanted. I told Baki what they said." He seemed not to have the strength to go on.

Hazar patted his friend's arm reassuringly. "Just rest. We'll get a doctor in here to take care of you."

Hazar looked to Baki, who took that as his cue to find someone qualified to care for such an injury.

"I'm sorry," Dorma told Hazar, her voice breaking.

Hazar looked up at her curiously. "For what?"

"I had her right where I wanted her. I should have known she'd try to escape. I should have disarmed her right away – so many **stupid** mistakes –"

Hazar shook his head while busying himself with trying to stave off the bleeding of Mongo's wound by applying pressure. "It'll do nothing to beat yourself up about it now. Twila is a cunning manipulator – it's how she got where she is now."

Dorma found no comfort in Hazar's logic. "She's going to go back and tell them, and then they'll be all over this quarter. We're going to have to move," she suddenly decided.

Dorma paced about the room, rubbing her arm where Twila had kicked her. It was still incredibly tender to the touch. "Do you think they'll really come for us? The Alliance, I mean."

Though she wasn't as cynical as most Drules when it came to trusting the Alliance, she still sometimes doubted that anybody was kind of heart enough to forgive the havoc their Empire had wreaked to put that aside and help them in their time of need. She wouldn't have blamed them if they'd said no and actually, had half-expected it. Her conversation with Twila brought to the surface once again the nagging worry that they were waiting on rescuers who ultimately would come to their senses and think better of it. Especially now that their risk was doubled, given the Empire was tipped off somehow and had more time to prepare, she worried once more that the Alliance might back out. The consequences of that would be devastating.

She stopped pacing for she realized Hazar was no longer engaged in conversation. She looked at her brother, sitting on the sofa beside his friend, no longer working on the wound. Rather, he simply sat there with his head bowed over Mongo's still form.

She took in the scene and, in a heart wrenching instant of realization, knew Mongo was gone. She turned away from them, her shoulders rising and falling in rhythm with her sobs. Absolute hopelessness and sorrow overwhelmed her.

* * *

Countless announcements paging Jeff went unanswered. It was a big ship to search and minutes soon ticked by into hours. Lisa was tired. Emotionally and mentally exhausted from the search and the doubts. Cric had caught up with her again, and they'd been searching together for some time. They were now in a hallway they and several others had been over before and found nothing remarkable. It felt like they were going in circles and getting nowhere.

They'd heard the jet wreckage was brought in and it had contained exactly one body, charred beyond recognition. It would take more time and science to reveal the deceased's identity, but Lisa didn't think she could bear the wait. It had also come to light that some other crew members were missing as well, and nobody could tell who might be victims and who might be the culprit, or even in cahoots with their internal enemy. There simply were no clear answers. The only thing that was clear was that all the stress and paranoia of the last several months on the Explorer were coming to a head.

Lisa leaned against the wall and placed her hands on her temples. It was no use. She felt so hopeless and more confused than she'd ever been in her life.

Cric gently took Lisa in an embrace and squeezed his teammate reassuringly. "We'll find him and it'll be okay."

Lisa had doubts if he was sure of that himself or if he was just being a good friend and consoling her. Regardless, she returned his embrace in earnest. Her head rested for a peaceful moment on Cric's arm as they maintained the embrace and it was then that something giving off a glint on the floor against the wall caught her attention.

"Cric, look!" she said breathlessly, standing back and pointing to the object. She hurried to it, plucking it off the floor. "It's my moonstone charm," she said, whirling around and showing it to him. "I gave it to Jeff as a good luck charm."

She could see the chain had been violently broken, as if it was ripped from around his neck. Lisa tried to push the idea out of her mind that he yanked it off himself in disgust before he went on a last treacherous rampage. No, that wasn't the Jeff she knew. There had to be some other explanation.

"I remember – he was wearing it when he met with the Commander. Cliff made some snide remark about it, actually," he added, remembering the amusing exchange.

"Ok, so that means he was here at some point."

Lisa had renewed hope that they were getting somewhere – getting close to finding out the truth.

The duo started looking around the hall, though there was nothing too remarkable about the area. A few doors, mostly leading to little more than storage closets, lined the corridor. But something did catch Cric's eye.

"Look at this."

Lisa followed his pale blue hand as it pointed out a small smudge of red on the wall near where he stood – a substance that was likely blood. Her eyes widened in alarm and a sense of urgency overwhelmed her.

Looking around, they noted several other subtle but tell-tale signs of a struggle. But where was Jeff? If he fought with someone, where could he be now? Of course, Lisa refused to fully entertain the worst possibility – that he wasn't responding to pages because whatever encounter had took place he was on the losing end of it. She thought back to how determined Jeff was to find the traitor and how she'd warned him not to do anything rash. She squeezed the moonstone in her hand tightly as she sorely hoped Jeff hadn't gone against her advice and paid a terrible price. Others might say that maybe this was just evidence of someone getting in Jeff's way that he had to dispose of, but Lisa shook the notion out of her head. She'd believe in Jeff until they could prove to her unequivocally otherwise. Lisa vowed to waver no more in her faith in Jeff.

"At least there's no big pools of blood," Cric noted, likely in an effort to ease her fears. But somehow, she found the observation not that comforting. The attacker could have cleaned up after himself she reasoned. Though this was a somewhat well traveled part of the ship, so whatever happened here happened fast. There wouldn't be a lot of time for drawn out and loud fighting or the trouble to clean up a messy scene.

Both turned when a muffled noise emanated from one of the closets down the hall. It sounded like something inside the closet had shifted and fallen over. They looked to each other wide-eyed for a moment before rushing to the door. Cric motioned for her to stand back, and he drew his pistol just in case. Lisa caught herself literally holding her breath while waiting for Cric to activate the door release.

They both jumped back as the door slid open and a small cascade of cleaning supplies came spilling out of the narrow, cramped closet. In addition, Jeff's listless body, which was bruised and battered, partially rolled out from where it had been stuffed into the small space.

In her shock, Lisa dropped the moonstone as her hands flew up to her mouth, and it hit the floor with a clatter until it came to rest against Jeff's motionless form. She stared at him, her mind and body frozen in shock even though she wanted to look away. In her heart she knew as time went on this was likely how the search would end, and yet, nothing could prepare her for the pathetic sight of him lying there so broken and undignified.

His face was bruised and bloodied, as were his knuckles – it was too much to think of the injury his uniform hid. He'd surely been in a ferocious fight. But the worst of all was his neck – even above his color, ugly bruising was evident under his jaw and Lisa knew whomever he'd fought with must have strangled him. And sure enough, his pistol was absent from its holster. The shock of the crime dwarfed any comfort that this cleared Jeff's name.

Lisa was barely aware of Cric paging a medic as she knelt down beside Jeff and gingerly stroked the side of his bruised cheek with the back of her hand. He did not react to her touch. He still felt warm, just like the tears that now freely flowed down her cheeks. Her pretty features were now contorted by an expression of heartbreaking grief and guilt.

_How could I ever doubt you?_

She began to softly sob as she tenderly ran her fingers through a tuft of his dark, shaggy hair, some of which was matted down with dried blood.

Only one word parted her lips, barely audible as it was. "Why?"

TO BE CONTINUED…


	12. The Beaten Generation Part III

Winning Days

Book IV: The Beaten Generation, Part III

By Purrsia Kat

Stepping out onto the balcony of his palace, Zeppo took in the city before him. His eyes scanned the aging structures, once hailed as the most advanced and brilliant of architecture, but now reduced to mere shadows of their former greatness. They were crumbling under the weight of the dying world around it, just as the Council's hold over the people was undergoing an equally rapid deterioration.

He watched the few citizens milling about in the square, noting they didn't bother to notice his conspicuous presence on the balcony. He made fewer and fewer public appearances anymore. Some among the Council murmured that this was because Zeppo knew the sentiment of the people was turning against him. That he was afraid to face their scorn or the assassins in the shadows. Zeppo did not fear his subjects. If anything, he was more wary of those on the Council as far as scorn and sniping went. Thinking about his people – that simply depressed him. Looking upon them was like staring his failures in the face. Even he never wanted it to come to this.

He sighed heavily, his mind drifting back to a different time. A time longer than practically any Drule living now could remember. But he could, thanks to Zarkon's old witch and the anti-aging potions she'd supply him with. It wasn't a fountain of youth, by any means, and surely time had finally put its mark on Zeppo. But it allowed him to still have strength and a sharp mind, and he remembered much. Including back when he was truly young, rather than artificially so.

When he was just a young heir, his father died suddenly leaving him not only to rule an Empire, but also to shepherd their people through crisis. The drought on the surface of Drule was so severe people were suffering and dying by the hundreds of thousands. The conditions there were unbearable and at that time, migrating to a new world was not an option for they didn't have the transport capacity to pull off such a feat.

It was his father that talked of digging deep to find more water and trying to irrigate. But Zeppo took it one step farther. He would move the people underground out of the glare of the searing sun. With time working against them, he enlisted the help from nearby worlds who were willing to take pity on their plight. It was easy in that day, for the Drule Empire was not yet widely feared. They'd kept a powerful influence in ways other than through fear and brute force, and had enough people so that slaves were not necessary to keep things going smoothly. The aliens that came to give aide were, ironically, from a water world and had mastered the concept of hydroponic farming – a concept he later used to feed his people utilizing the great wealth of underground water stores Drule still held. The fact that the soil was nothing but dust had been overcome. A magnificent metropolis was built underground and many were saved, and all too willing to turn a blind eye when his ruling and diplomatic tactics took on a more menacing bent. The only real side effect the Drules suffered, if you'd call it that, was the turning of their eyes from a yellow to a deep red from living so much out of the direct sunlight.

The people adored him, held him in the highest regard. If he stepped out onto the balcony facing the square and one soul was about to notice, it wouldn't be long before it filled with people hailing him, paying homage to their brilliant leader and savior. It was soon after that he began to receive Haggar's gift of delayed aging as a "gift" for his accomplishment and a token of the hope that he would be interested in continuing a beneficial relationship with Doom. Nevermind that Zarkon had neither showed the interest or concern to help the Drules when they were on the brink of extinction. The draw of what the potion promised was alluring, and he accepted it. He was going to live forever, but there was a price. The relative peace the Drules enjoyed would be shattered, but he managed to justify it to the adoring masses. The people were told surrounding worlds sought to take advantage of the vulnerable state the Drules were now in, and they would have to be prepared to defend themselves. Without question, they even happily went to work, building up his machines of war.

Zeppo used them to attack the others and plunder their worlds, taking slaves to do the grueling hard labor that was the real thrust behind their mighty build-up of arms and terrifying robeasts. The slaves also built legions of druids who would carry out the more unsavory war tasks, so that the people at home were never the wiser until it was too late. They conquered the worlds around them and Zeppo thought the bounty would afford him his pick of any one of them to migrate to whenever he wanted. However, they ended up using up many of the worlds, destroying them like macabre stepping-stones in his mad march across the galaxy. And in his arrogance, Zeppo delayed the move for the people were in the dark for a long time, and he liked it that way. He liked that living in that hole underground reminded them that they owed him their lives. So they need not question his motives, his plans. He was their savior. There was always a new excuse, a new reason why they couldn't leave he could feed them, and a new enemy to fight to delay the matter. If he moved them to a new world, what was to stop them from thinking they no longer needed him? He envisioned them turning from him like spoiled children. He needed them to need him. And he always told himself there would be time. Plenty of time to go before it was truly too late.

But then the Alliance came and his war machine met resistance like never before. Even Zarkon had to deal with the meddling interlopers, so there was no help to be had from that sector of the Empire once again. Not to mention, by then, Zarkon had largely broken from the main branch of the Empire and chose to play by his own rules. To Zeppo's dismay, this meant less and less boosts to his youth courtesy of the old witch. Although he supposed it was just as well for people were beginning to talk about it, but he still planned to hang onto his glory days as long as he could. In a way, the Alliance providing a new enemy with which to once again fuel the citizen's since of patriotism – not to mention to stoke prejudicial fear in them – was timely. He had visions of defeating a juggernaut like the Alliance and once again hitting the levels of admiration he'd earned in his true youth.

However, the Drules lost ground, losing fleets upon fleets, lives upon lives, as the Alliance was not as easily deterred or defeated as he hoped. Adding insult to injury was the fact that Drule began to fall apart quicker than expected and the people became skeptical, fearful and restless. He tried to deceive them with comforting assurances and false data but it was becoming harder and harder to pull off. Everyone could feel it now. Time he thought he had to move them was slipping away. Resources he once had were spent fighting the great war – he questioned whether there was enough transport to move their entire population even if he were to lay down arms long enough to address the issue head on. No matter how Zeppo turned it around in his mind, there was no way to salvage it. A once glorious reign was withering.

Now Throk had come to him with this news about Hazar and his working with the Alliance to bring them to Drule. The news was like a blow to the gut for Zeppo. He'd never produced an heir, but he'd long ago taken Hazar under his wing – the man was almost like a son to him. He watched him grow up and become a proud warrior and charismatic leader. Zeppo saw a lot of himself in Hazar – the ambition, the fearlessness, that brazen confidence you have when you feel you're untouchable. But now there was something else in the reflecting pool he'd lost sight of himself, but that he was starting to see in Hazar – a love for the Drule people and a selfless passion to save them, at any cost. Somewhere along the way, Zeppo had let that fall to the wayside and put his own vanity and ego first. Hazar had risen above that, and even though Zeppo recognized the strength that took he hated Hazar for it. He hated that he wasn't able to do so and now…now Hazar was going to steal the love of the people Zeppo had earned so long ago.

Even so, he felt conflicted about Throk's desire to have Hazar shot on sight. On one hand, it was treason – Hazar was consorting with their sworn enemy and giving them confidential information – and it was punishable by death. However, Zeppo could see why Hazar was reaching out. It could very well be their only chance with their own woeful lack of planning. No, **his own** woeful lack of planning. Zeppo leaned heavily against the railing of the balcony, knowing the wolf pack of a Supreme Council they had would never let the Alliance land on Drule without a fight. All the power he thought he had was a bitter illusion, he realized, for it wouldn't matter what he said at this point even if he wanted to go completely stoic. The bloodlust evident in the higher Council members and their top Commanders, that was once such an asset, would now seem to be their very undoing. Too much had been done and too many things were already in motion to stop the momentum now. The chips would simply have to fall where they may. It was too late for him, and it made him sick to think he was so decisively out of the game. But he had enough compassion left in his heart to hope that no matter what, it wasn't too late for them all.

* * *

Lisa was in such a daze it took her longer than it should have to react to Cric's urgent tugging on her arm, coaxing her to back away so that the arriving medics could examine Jeff. As if in a fog, she watched a trio of men surround Jeff and take stock of his injuries. He hadn't moved from the spot where he came to rest after tumbling out of the closet where she and Cric had made the gruesome discovery. She was sure their efforts where in vain. So it came as a shock, and Lisa almost thought she was imagining it, when she overheard one of the men decree he'd found a faint pulse. She watched, slack-jawed, as they quickly placed an oxygen mask on Jeff and loaded him up on a gurney. She'd simply assumed he was already gone and the news that he was yet with them was almost as shocking as her initial assumption.

One of the departing medics inadvertently kicked a small gem, and it caught Lisa's eye and snapped her out of her state of shock. She scampered after the moonstone, plucking it up off the floor once more.

"He's alive," she said as she turned back to look at Cric, her voice cracking with emotion. "Let's go!"

"Lisa, wait!" Cric cried after her.

But it was no use. She was already dashing off after Jeff, the hand that clutched the moonstone held close to her heart. The shock gave way to a sweet elation that made her feel like she was floating on air. However, when they reached the sick bay she, along with a growing number of gathering team members, were turned away.

"Give us room to work on him," one of the medics politely requested before disappearing inside the room, leaving Lisa to worry out in the hall. But she was amid good company.

Most of the team was there by now, along with a mix of curious staff and crew drawn to the commotion. Cric had also caught up and stood once more by Lisa's side, putting his arm around her and squeezing her shoulder in a show of support.

Cliff pushed his way out of the crowd. "Is it true? You found him in a supply closet?"

Cric nodded. "Word travels fast," he noted.

"How bad off is he?" Cliff pressed.

"Let's just say," Cric began carefully, "he was on the brink when we found him."

Ginger, standing nearby, suddenly punched Shannon hard in the arm causing the man to cry out.

"What the hell was that for?" he demanded.

"Who feels silly now?" Ginger shot back. She proceeded to remind him, in a mock imitation, of how he blew off their initial concerns about Jeff's absence.

Shannon shrunk back a bit and shrugged. "It seemed like a perfectly logical explanation at the time."

Cliff shook his head. "I'm willing to bet Jeff got himself into this situation by doing something typically hot-headed. I just hope he's lucky enough to pull through this one."

"You don't know that," Lisa blurted, feeling the urge to defend him even if she knew what Cliff said was likely true.

"True, but I know _Jeff_," Cliff reasoned. "And one of these days, he's going to go off half-cocked and get himself killed."

Lisa felt Cric's grip on her shoulder tighten briefly again, and she wisely stifled a curt reply. It would do little good.

"Has there been any news about the identity of the jet pilot?" Cric asked, deftly changing the subject.

"They're still analyzing the bone fragments and remains. Keira never was able to point out anyone, although she didn't get a chance to hear everyone either," Cliff explained. "Hopefully, Jeff will be able to tell us who attacked him and our mystery will be solved."

Before anyone else could add their two cents, Commander Hawkins strode through the crowd and straight into the room where Jeff had been carried without a word. Before the door slid shut behind him, Lisa couldn't help herself and slipped into the room as did several of the others.

Hawkins conferred with the medics, but Lisa hung back as not to crowd them. They had Jeff lying on a bed in a semi-reclined position, with most of his clothes removed. Indeed his body was mottled with ugly bruises. He still wore the oxygen mask and his eyes remained closed, although it brought Lisa great comfort just to be able to hear the gentle rhythm of his breathing.

"Jeff," Hawkins said in a firm, even tone. "Can you hear me? Who did this to you?"

Hawkins repeated the request several more times until finally Jeff flinched and his eyes opened briefly in response. There was no logic to his movements and no lucidity in his eyes, so it was anyone's guess how much Jeff could comprehend at that time. It was like the Commander was disturbing a man who was enjoying a deep sleep and wanted nothing more than to sink back into it.

"He was choked," the doctor explained while pointing out the marks on Jeff's neck. "But for whatever reason, the assailant didn't finish the job – perhaps they were interrupted. The choking was enough to render Jeff unconscious, but it was the blow to the head he took that kept him out. The conditions inside the small, poorly ventilated closet didn't help matters. If he hadn't been found when he was, it might have been a different outcome. Finding an unconscious man in a closet on a ship this size is incredible. He's very lucky."

Lisa squeezed the moonstone tightly in her hand, and had no doubt it was the luck of the charm that helped save him.

"Will he fully recover?" Hawkins asked.

"We'll have to run more scans to assess the extent of the head injury but I'm optimistic. Most of the other wounds are superficial. However, he'll need plenty of rest and time to make a full recovery."

Hawkins nodded and turned to go only to be greeted by the sheepish faces of many on the Voltron Force.

"Will he be well enough in time for our mission to Drule?" Cliff boldly asked.

"It's hard to say," Hawkins replied with a wry smile. "But if not, I can always play stand-in."

Cliff's cheeks flushed a bright red. "Love…to have you, sir," he choked out.

As soon as Hawkins walked by, the group erupted into silent gestures and facial expressions that made it clear they didn't want to repeat that experience.

* * *

Later that evening, as the Explorer neared Outpost 9 – the somewhat small planet where the Alliance had been constructing an as-yet undetected base of operations – Jeff had been moved to the same recovery suite that Hutch occupied. Most of the Land Team was there already, as news came that Hutch was not only alert, but off the vent and could speak somewhat. His voice was low and raspy, but he had a lot of questions about the time he'd spent ill and bed-ridden.

The remainder of the Air Team had been sent out ahead to the outpost, so it was Lisa and Cric who kept vigil at Jeff's bedside. Any wakeful moments he had so far were fleeting and for all practical purposes, unresponsive. He was still in a semi-reclined position and nearly nude, but they had afforded him the modesty of a blanket for his transport to recovery. Not that he would have noticed.

There was nothing to do now but wait for Jeff to wake up in a true sense of the phrase. Lisa and Cric stood over Jeff, watching his still form and listening to the rhythmic whoosh of air filter through the oxygen mask, the noise of which muted the lively conversation the Land Team was having across the room.

"Have you had any of your feelings lately?" Lisa wondered, for sometimes she knew Cric kept things to himself and there was so much that troubled her now. If he had any misgivings, she'd rather know now and be prepared.

Cric's visage turned thoughtful. "I've been having this strange, recurring dream since that battle where we destroyed the robeast and thought Sandu and Keira were still inside," he confessed. "But I don't know what to make of it. It's so different from how I normally sense things, I doubt it has anything to do with what's going on now or what will go on in the near future." He shrugged. "So the short answer is no."

Lisa agreed that a symbolic dream would be unusual for Cric, who normally just sensed things in more of an abstract way. But the dream intrigued her. "Oh? Do you remember any of it?"

Before he could answer, Jeff began to stir again and Cric directed Lisa's attention to it. This time his eyes stayed open and he actually looked around the room a bit. His expression was that of confusion, like a person waking up in a strange land and wondering how he got there.

Lisa, still clutching the moonstone, felt a renewed rush of hope. "Jeff, you're okay," she assured him. He looked at her and she could tell he recognized her this time.

"Do you remember what happened to you?" Cric asked.

The Land Team, taking notice, filtered over to Jeff's bedside. All but Hutch, who was still not quite well enough to walk around unassisted.

Jeff blinked, looking momentarily perplexed as if he couldn't recall what it was Cric was asking about. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he clutched at the oxygen mask to move it aside so he could speak. Lisa fought the urge to replace the mask, his breathing sounded so ragged and labored without it.

Jeff moved his lips in vain at first, for nothing but dry, unintelligible whispers would issue forth.

"Maybe we shouldn't push him to speak so soon," Lisa worried aloud afraid he would try to do too much and suffer a setback.

Cliff disagreed. "No, he really wants to say something. Cinda, go get the Commander."

Cinda nodded and headed out, while Cliff leaned over, his ear close to Jeff's face. "What was that again?" Cliff urged him.

The rest of the group waited quietly, until Cliff stood upright again and addressed them. "It sounded like he said…Sparks."

Jeff nodded as vigorously as he could manage, and tugged at Cliff's arm so he would come closer again.

"Oh!" Lisa gasped, her mind going back to her encounter with the traitor. The eyes…the voice! It all made sense now, especially given Sparks was one of the crew members still unaccounted for. Being one of the navigators on the Explorer and working on the bridge would explain how he always knew so much about their plans and where they were going. It may have made sense, but it was still hard to believe. This was a man they all knew well – or thought they did. As shocked as Lisa was at the revelation, she was more shocked that she never put it together before, the saying about hindsight notwithstanding.

Cliff straightened after listening closely to Jeff a second time, but it was his turn to look confused. "Hawkins? What are you implying Jeff? Did Sparks choke the sense out of you?"

Jeff shook his head in frustration, unable to muster the breath or power of his voice to explain. Luckily, Cric had thought ahead and presented him with a pen and paper. Jeff took them gratefully and began writing as Hawkins and Newley came into the room, followed by Cinda.

"What's going on?" Newley asked, just as Jeff handed the paper off to Cliff.

"For starters," Cliff began, "Sparks is our Inter-galactic Man of Mystery." He paused, his eyes sweeping over Jeff's shaky writing. "Secondly, Sparks apparently made reference to the effect that Hawkins is living on borrowed time before they fought."

Jeff sank back into the bed, relaxing more now that he'd been understood, replaced the mask and looked far too tired for Lisa's comfort. She was also stricken by how Hawkins and Newley didn't look that shocked at the news.

"We were just coming back from the lab when Cinda ran into us," Newley explained. "Indeed it was Sparks in that jet, so whatever threat he posed is gone with him."

"Are you sure he was working alone?" Cric asked. "There are others still missing."

Hawkins looked grim. "Not anymore. Two more of our crew didn't get as lucky as Jeff when they crossed paths with Sparks during his attempt to flee. We got the bad news while we were in the lab with Professor Page."

A flurry of murmurs rippled through the small crowd.

"Furthermore, other than his conning Keira into stealing Ginger's fighter jet, there's no evidence he was in league with anyone else on the ship, though we're having his quarters thoroughly searched to be sure," Newley added. "But I think the fact that he went as far as to use a scared and inexperienced girl in the first place points to the idea that he worked alone otherwise. She was just a tool of opportunity for him. Luckily, she's been cooperating with us, divulging anything she knows about his interactions with her. She has yet to implicate anyone else."

"But what about that threat," Cliff countered.

"He did try to take out the bridge of the ship, where he knew Hawkins would be, with those missiles," suggested Marvin. "Maybe that's what he was talking about."

Jeff looked alarmed at the conversation, given he'd missed many of those events.

"We'll take some precautions just in case he left us any parting gifts," Newley assured them. "Let's just hope this ordeal is over, so we can concentrate on the mission ahead."

With that, Hawkins and Newley exited after bidding Jeff and Hutch get well wishes. The Land Team resumed their happy reunion with the improving Hutch, leaving Lisa to catch Jeff up on all that had happened since he'd been missing.

* * *

The Explorer gently set down on a large lake upon Outpost 9, the base there barely visible amid the heavy vegetation high among the bluff on the south end of the lake. Keira waited anxiously by a window on the upper deck, taking in the sparkling water and the sunlight as though it was the first time she'd witnessed such wonders.

Her eagerness didn't go unnoticed. "Anxious to go outside?"

Keira looked over to see it was Cric standing nearby who spoke to her. She nodded vigorously, making no attempt to mask her excitement. The alien man was one on the team she felt particularly at ease with. Perhaps it was because she never felt, even during her most conflicted times, like he ever really judged her.

"Come on then, let's go outside," he said with a smile.

She followed behind him as he led her to the outer deck where the ships would normally launch or do their landings. Being in space so long had given Keira a unique case of cabin fever, and she only fully became aware of how deep it was when the sun's rays hit her skin, the fresh air filled her lungs, and a gentle breeze tickled her skin when they emerged onto the deck. She stood there for a moment, soaking it all in. The world they landed on was different than the one she'd called home but the basic elements were the same – things she'd long taken for granted.

Keira sighed with satisfaction. "Thank you," she said meekly, grateful he showed her the way. It'd taken her forever to figure her way out on her own, for she never had quite grown accustomed to the sheer size of the Explorer.

Cric, however, had his attention on an area of the deck that was blackened – an ugly crater bashed in the center of it – and Keira followed his gaze to it. The Land Team leader and Sandu joined them on the deck at that point.

"We've got a lot of work to do, just to repair that," Cliff remarked, indicating the impact site of the spy's fateful flight.

Cric nodded. "We're lucky that's all the damage it did."

"It seemed to be disintegrating even before it hit – I'm sure it lost a lot of velocity," Cliff mused. "For once, Marvin goofing up worked in our favor."

Keira felt awkward listening to the team leader's exchange. She didn't feel like she belonged in the conversation and she also didn't like to think about the spy and her involvement in the whole mess. She merely wanted to enjoy the sun and rest.

"You two," Cliff continued, looking from Sandu to Keira, "have something to be happy about at least."

The pair looked to him expectedly.

"As you know," Cliff explained to Sandu, "we're going to your home planet in the hopes of saving the people there. If we succeed, you can go home again – well, sort of."

Sandu smiled. "I know what you mean. And I thank you. If there's anything I can do to assist, let me know."

"Actually, we were going to leave the two of you here before heading out to Drule," Cric added, taking note of Sandu's crestfallen expression. "You'll both be safer here. And we also thought that maybe Sandu could help in persuading the rest of your people to land here," he finished, indicating Keira.

"You've found them?" Keira asked, her eyes lighting up with hope.

"What's left of them," Cliff came back before thinking, to which Cric quickly shoved an elbow into the Land Team leader's ribs as chastisement. "Right, well – " he sputtered, trying to gain his composure. "They're not listening to us so well. But they trust the Drules."

Keira felt for Sandu, being asked to be on such duty when she knew his heart was in helping his own kind. "But what about me? They'd listen to me. Let me send a message to them."

Cric looked thoughtful. "We'd thought of that, too. But there's a chance they'd think you were under duress and it was some kind of trap."

"Oh." Keira hadn't thought of that.

"It's okay, I'll stay and help," Sandu assured them all, to which Keira felt eternally grateful. She only hoped the Alliance mission was a success and he would also soon enjoy a happy reunion. "The Alliance helped me once when nobody else would. I'm happy to return the favor."

Keira beamed at the prospect of her people having their scary exodus come to an end, and dared to wonder who might be among the survivors. Perhaps, even her own family.

* * *

Days later, as the Explorer was due to depart Outpost 9, Lisa went to check on Jeff. He was finally feeling well enough to be up and about, and Lisa had a clean uniform for him to wear. She was still rather concerned that he was trying to do too much this soon, so she'd put a new chain on her charm, which she wanted to give back to him. He needed the luck, she'd decided, to get him through his recovery not to mention the mission ahead. She just wouldn't let herself think too much about the mission, for even with the spy out of the way and that worry lifted, there was so much more to worry about now. Lisa preferred to try to stay as positive as she could manage.

She entered the recovery room to find Hutch sleeping peacefully. The water the Explorer floated in cast a soft light through the windows in the room, illuminated by the golden rays of the setting sun. Jeff was indeed awake and about, emerging from a shower hair damp and disheveled, and clad in only a towel around his waist. The air held a mix of steamy mist and the fresh smell of soap drifting out of the adjacent washroom.

There was a time when Lisa might have felt embarrassed to walk into such a scene, but his state of semi-undress wasn't much of an issue for her. Perhaps because she'd already seen him in just his underpants the day before as he was being cared for following his rescue. Or maybe the sight of the youthful and fit body of the man she was falling in love with was a welcome sight. Whatever the case may be, she didn't second guess her presence there.

"Oh hey, Lisa," he said in greeting, seemingly unfazed to see her there. His body still bore the signs of the attempt on his life, though now it was at least so obviously on the mend.

"Feeling better I see."

He nodded, though his eyes scanned the room for some object unseen. He definitely seemed distracted.

"I brought fresh clothes for you," Lisa said, laying out the crisp Air Team uniform on the bed he'd occupied earlier. When he failed to respond, she peered closer at him in the ripples of fading amber light. "Are you alright, Jeff?"

"Yeah," he replied with an air that was a little too nonchalant, while he reached around her for the clothes. Without a hesitation, he unceremoniously dropped the towel from around his waist with his free hand and got to the business of dressing. Lisa only caught a glimpse before turning away and suddenly becoming very interested in Hutch's sleeping form across the room. Though it wasn't as though she'd never seen a naked man before, it did catch her off guard. She felt a bit of a warm glow creep into her cheeks, for now it felt more like privacy was necessary.

"I got to get to that meeting with the Commander and the other Team Leaders. Got a lot on my mind," he added casually, reaching around her again for his shirt. Lisa felt it was safe to look once more and noticed him wincing a little as he tried to slip his arms through the sleeves of his shirt. It was apparent to Lisa he was still rather sore.

"Here, let me help," she offered, gently helping him ease into the garment. It was then she noticed the dressings on his hands, which covered his battered knuckles, were saturated with both blood and water – he'd showered with them on. "That should be changed."

She walked over and rummaged through the stand next to his vacated bed and found some sterile gauze and tape. She motioned for Jeff to come closer, and he did so somewhat reluctantly.

"Don't be that way," she teased. "This will only take a second."

"Don't be what way--- Ouch!"

She'd taken his hand and yanked the old dressing quickly, without realizing it'd stuck to the wounds on his knuckles causing him pain.

"I'm sorry!" she said with a gasp.

Jeff shook his offended limb, as if trying to shake out the stinging. "I guess you weren't a healer in a past life," he joked, which made Lisa feel relieved. At least the amusement in his tone told her that he wasn't mad at her.

"No but we have a crystal on my planet that is said to have the power to heal." She coaxed Jeff into giving her his hand so she could put the fresh dressing on.

Jeff smiled which made Lisa's stomach do an odd little flip. "You're really killing me here. Your people have a crystal that heals but you brought the one on board for luck?"

Lisa couldn't help but smile herself as she finished up the task. "I thought that maybe if I had good luck, I wouldn't need to be healed. But I guess it doesn't always work out that way."

"Next time you get mail from home, have them send you one of the healing stones. We're gonna need it."

She still wasn't sure if he really believed in such things, but it comforted her to give him her stone. "Oh, speaking of moonstones…" she dug into her pocket and produced the repaired necklace. "I thought you might like to have this back."

When he didn't protest, Lisa gently latched the chain around his neck, the luminous, semi-transparent crystal coming to rest on his bare chest. Her eyes were drawn to it, and then to all the bruising his open shirt showcased. "It's so hard to believe Sparks did this to you," she said quietly. He'd taken an awful beating and it showed most painfully.

Jeff became agitated and quickly buttoned up his shirt and tucked it in. At first, she thought he might just storm off without another word, leaving her to wonder what brought on the mood swing. Not this time.

"You know what bothers me?" he began in a near-whisper. "That we thought we knew that guy so well. We laughed together, shared stories about home – fought against the Drules together. But he had us so snowed, Lisa. Of all the people that I thought I'd find when I came around that corner, I never thought it would be him. It was almost as bad as finding one of the team standing there talking about destroying us to the enemy. But what I wonder most of all is, why? Why did he do it? How could he do it, to people he knew, people he served with. How could he think we're the enemy?"

He paused and looked away for a moment. She felt helpless, not knowing what to say or how to comfort them. They were all in shock about Sparks, but it seemed Jeff was taking it particularly hard.

Jeff looked at her again, and she could see the fear and sadness in his eyes. "How well do we really know anybody, Lisa? And here we are trusting Hazar going into something that's more dangerous than we've ever faced before. You think you know someone, and find out he's been stabbin' you in the back the whole time. Or you barely know someone, and you trust him with your life. I don't like any of it."

"People get a lot of crazy things in their head, Jeff," she offered. "Unless we find something he left behind, we may never know what Sparks was thinking or why he betrayed us." She reached out to gently stroke his arm. "But you shouldn't let this make you second guess everyone around you. And Hazar, he's proven to be honest with us before. Also, we have confirmed his home world is indeed in peril. Regardless, we would have an obligation to help the people on that planet."

Jeff slowly nodded.

At a loss for anything else to say, Lisa simply planted a soft kiss on Jeff's lips. Just as Jeff put his arms around her and drew her closer to him to really savor the moment, a groggy decree shattered the mood.

"Oh man, get a room! Preferably, not the one I'm stuck in."

Lisa broke the embrace and whirled around to give Hutch a piece of her mind. But instead, she picked up the bundle of leftover gauze from the bed and whipped it at him. As the gauze bounced harmlessly off Hutch's forehead, the trio erupted in good-natured laughter. It felt good to laugh again, even if only for a moment.

When Lisa turned to look at Jeff, he was using the nightstand to brace himself with his other hand pressed against his head. "What's the matter?" she asked with due alarm.

"A little…dizzy," came his short and strained reply.

She went to his side and helped him onto the bed. "You should lie down. You're pushing yourself too much."

At first he started to relax, but then sat back up as if he intended on going someplace. "I gotta go to that meeting," he insisted.

Lisa put her hands on his shoulders, stopping him from rising.

"Is everything alright?" Hutch asked.

"It's fine. Jeff is just going to rest," Lisa replied to which Jeff laid back and audibly groaned as a response.

"The women, they're always right, Jeff," Hutch remarked. "They remind us often enough of that."

Lisa shot Hutch a mock glare. "Oh you be quiet or I'll have the doctor sedate you when he comes in to look at Jeff."

"Shutting up," Hutch vowed.

To Lisa's dismay, Jeff sat up and worked his way past her determined to go to the meeting and resume his duties no matter what. She looked helplessly after his departing form and wondered at the wisdom of his behavior.

* * *

Hazar got word of the Alliance rescue fleet's arrival just as the dust was settling following the URF's storming of the palace. The fleet was locked in battle against the Council's resistance above the surface. The presence of Steele's fleet only energized the rebels below despite their losses while taking the palace of the Emperor. Hazar knew this was not a fight they could afford to lose, and although part of him still found it strange to be striking against the establishment he'd long been a part of and even believed in, the larger part of him knew this was the only way. There was no more time for heartfelt speeches and pleas for reason. Those who refused to see the writing on the wall would have to have their hand forced. There simply wasn't time to be diplomatic about it. He just hoped when all was said and done, the people would understand and not think of him as a traitor. The rebellion definitely found the Alliance's arrival reinforcing, but the common citizens, he noticed, appeared to have a mixed reaction. There was panic in the streets, but then he wasn't entirely surprised. These people were reacting based on the propaganda they'd been fed about the Alliance for years. Not to mention they were already frightened about what was going on with the world around them.

Hazar hoped that once the palace fell, he and Dorma could reach and calm the masses before hysteria caused them to try to destroy those who had come to save them. His eyes scanned the rubble and the bodies – belonging to brave URF fighters and Imperial Army soldiers alike – and assessed the situation. They'd definitely won the building but it hadn't been as full of high-ranking Council members as he'd hoped, even with the Council Building in shambles. Odds were they were above, waging war with the arriving Alliance fleets one last time, especially given there were so few field commanders left to lead the fighting for them. Win or lose, Hazar was confident it was the last battle for them. Which, he had to admit, gave them more credit than he originally afforded them. He'd at least expected Throk and maybe Durak to be here, cowering in relative safety while underlings carried out their mad orders. But then, there weren't too many underlings left after the prior battles and wars dwindled the numbers of their young men, and their android factories couldn't even keep up with the rate of loss either. Either way, they would have to find a way to ensure who was where and taking the Palace was the first step in doing so. It was important that the warmongers were rounded up and silenced before they could cause any more trouble.

But most of all, Hazar wondered where Zeppo was. He turned to Dorma, who'd just ended a transmission with Commander Steele.

"It's bad up there," Dorma informed him, worried. "There's just the one fleet, with two others lagging behind. Including the one that Voltron travels with. Throk and Twila, they're pulling out all the stops. The Alliance is losing so many ships and men…" She trailed off, her eyes large with fear and worry.

He simply nodded, not knowing what more they could do with limited men and resources but try to take strategic strongholds on the ground. The battle in the air – the Alliance was on their own, though he wondered why the Explorer – and Voltron – wouldn't lead the fight.

"At first, I worried they wouldn't come," Dorma confided. "But now, I'm worried it's not going to do any good. They're asking for help, what do I tell them?"

Hazar laid a comforting hand on his sister's shoulder. "Tell them, we're all praying for a miracle."

Dorma hung her head, and Hazar turned away not wanting to see her cry as he suspected she may. "Have the men raid whatever supplies they can from the palace, but be on guard – there's a lot of people unaccounted for," he added.

Both were startled by a mild tremor that shook the building. When it passed, Hazar looked at Dorma and was glad to see she was not teary eyed but looked determined. She nodded, and having spotted Baki across the room, dashed over to confer with him.

Hazar had a plan of his own. Working his way to the center of the building, Hazar cautiously entered the circular throne room. At first glance, it was empty save for a scattering of tumbled stone columns that were likely evidence of damage done by the increasing tremors. He moved in a little more – not that he had expected to find Zeppo out in the open, but he did know the palace was full of secret passages and hidden corridors, and Hazar figured there had to be one leading from the throne room.

Still ever-cautious Hazar made his way slowly up the steps that led to the ornate throne at the top, side-stepping debris along the way. Just as he was almost to the top, the wall the throne was resting against began to move, and Hazar drew his pistol in anticipation. The wall rotated around, the other side containing an identical throne – but this one occupied by Zeppo.

"Hazar," Zeppo said coolly, setting his eyes fixedly upon him. "How has it come to this?"

Hazar lowered his pistol, but still kept it in hand, just in case. "It's over," he replied simply.

Zeppo shook his head sadly. "You brought the Alliance here. I don't understand. We could have done this on our own. We don't need them."

Hazar felt his temper flare. "Our people face extinction and all you care about is pride? I've been pleading with the Council for months, trying to handle the evacuation internally. But yes, that did include making peace with the Alliance so we could stop fighting long enough to save ourselves. But all that got me was exiled. I was left with little choice but to ask the only people willing to listen for help. They have the resources we've wasted on a pointless war to get us off this dying ball of dust. Survival – it's all that matters right now. Don't you get that?"

"How dare you," Zeppo seethed. "How dare you talk to me like that? I have seen what's going on. I'm not blind! You're the one with pride issues, having to do it your way or not at all!"

Hazar took one step closer. "You're pathetic."

Looking upon the Emperor, whose glory days had clearly come to pass, stoked a pang of pity in Hazar. It had to be hard for him to let go of those days, to want to cling to a time when things weren't so dire or complicated. But Hazar also knew living in the past wasn't going to save their people.

Zeppo glared at him and his hand move as if he were going to reach for something hidden in his robes and Hazar tensed. He saw pure hatred in the man's eyes, but he wondered if it was aimed at Hazar or at himself – or both. As much as he disagreed with Zeppo now, he did not want to harm him if he didn't have to. They had a long and storied history together and it caused Hazar to want to spare the man. But fate intervened as another tremor, this more violent than the last, shook the palace. Stone rained down, a large chunk hitting the Emperor and injuring him badly.

Instinctively, Hazar rushed to his aid, to which Zeppo weakly resisted. "It doesn't have to be this way," he urged his once-mentor. "Come with us. Start over with us. We can forget the ambitions of the Empire and live in peace." Having had a second chance given to him by the Alliance, Hazar thought it only right he extend the olive branch in kind.

Zeppo once again tried to push away, and seemed to be laughing a bit. "You don't understand," he strained to say. "One does not just 'forget the Empire'. Not when it owns you. Leave me. Leave me here."

"No," Hazar replied adamantly, starting to pick the injured man up. "I can't leave any Drule here to die with the planet."

Zeppo fumbled and produced a pistol of his own, pointing it at Hazar's chest. "I said…leave me." Hazar slowly set Zeppo back on the throne sure he was going to be shot besides. "Get out."

Hazar backed away, Zeppo's gun still pointed at him ominously. He made it down the steps when another tremor rocked the building. Hazar nimbly avoided some heavy stone that came down from the ceiling, but Zeppo was not so lucky. Or perhaps, he was. Hazar watched until the dust cleared, staring for a long time at the stone slab that stood where once Zeppo sat. He'd tried to give the man one more chance, but this was what he chose. Hazar could not hold himself accountable.

And with that, he turned to go back to his mission of finding whatever remaining rogue leaders he could round up.

* * *

News reached the Explorer about what Steele's fleet was going through on Drule, and Hawkins couldn't help but feel frustration that they weren't there to help. They were on their way, but the repairs to the ship caused by Sparks' crash landing took longer than expected, and Steele insisted on heading out anyway. Newley had to wait on supplies and the rest of his fleet, so he too was behind and could not assist. Data they'd received told them Drule's planetary situation was escalating at an alarming rate, and Steele didn't want to risk waiting for either of them.

"Come on," he growled at the bridge crew. "I want these engines at top speed."

"Sir," spoke up on ensign. "They _are_ at top speed. We push them any farther and they'll burn up."

"What's our ETA?"

The ensign turned and briefly consulted the monitor in the panel before him. "More than five hours."

"Damn," Hawkins cursed under his breath. The resistance on Drule was stronger than they'd anticipated. He didn't think Steele could hold out that long, especially since anyone else nearby that might lend a hand was still leery of the Alliance thanks to all that happened with Rilo and the Drule Council's propaganda machine keeping the fear going. He was sure some of them probably saw the Alliance's presence as he'd heard the Council had – as an invasion, not a rescue mission. There was only so much Hazar could do to counteract that, he knew, but he also wished Hazar could do more to help their efforts. The only luck they could hope for now was that those nearby worlds would stay out of it altogether, and not add to their woes by aiding the rogue Drules in fighting back.

It was then the ensign got brave enough to put a voice to what he and his colleagues were likely worried about. "Sir...you don't suppose Hazar's luring us into the ultimate trap, do you?"

Hawkins knew there was no way to say for certain. It was hard to say what anyone was capable of – Sparks had shown them all that. He had no doubt that Sparks' betrayal only added to the crew's paranoia. But Hawkins had met with Hazar once briefly, before he ran into all the trouble with his home world government and got exiled, and there was a true sincerity Hawkins sensed. "I hear what you're saying, and I understand it. But I think we can trust him. Our own intelligence confirms that his assessment of conditions on Drule is not an exaggeration. So, we'd be on this mission regardless, for humanitarian reasons."

The ensign nodded slowly, though he didn't seem any happier about it than anyone else was. "I just don't understand them. We're coming to help and they're attacking us?"

Hawkins sighed. "They're scared. And some of them don't know any other way but with us as the enemy. We'll have to be prepared for anything."

"I just hope Steele can hold out until we get there."

"Me too. Me too."

* * *

Elsewhere on the Explorer, some of the Voltron Force was gathered, trying to relax as much as they could. Ginger, Cric, Sven and Cliff sat in a booth within the lounge doing little more than moving the food on their plates around with their forks.

"I have to admit, I don't have much of an appetite," Ginger confessed.

Cric nodded, eyeing the food on his plate warily. "Me either. Too nervous."

"How do you suppose Steele's fleet is doing?" Cliff wondered. "I'm sure it didn't look good to the Drules that the fleet had its share of fighters and ammo as well as transports."

Sven sat back and looked thoughtful. "They couldn't just go in there unarmed – Hazar warned us there would be a resisting faction. But I see what you mean."

"Last I heard, Steele's message of peaceful intentions wasn't met in kind," Ginger added gloomily. "But nobody has been up on the bridge lately to get an update. I wish we could have left with his fleet."

"Can you blame them?" the Land Team leader countered in regards to the avoidance of the Explorer's bridge. "The Commander is in one of the most foul moods I've seen him in since…ever."

Cric tried to muster a reassuring smile. "We still have our fleet, Newley's, and Voltron – let's hope it will be enough. Hopefully Steele can hold out until we get there."

"One advantage," reasoned Sven, "is the Drules have got to be running low on droids, munitions and other resources including soldiers of the flesh variety. They can't resist us all."

"That's given they don't get help from elsewhere," Cliff said gloomily. "Plus we have our own disadvantage - a battered leader who can't stay on his own two feet for long, insisting on flying this mission. As much as you disliked the role, Cric, I wish it were you instead of Jeff that was going to be commanding the teams on this one."

Ginger bristled at first, but even she had to admit it was a risky move. "I'm a little surprised the medics cleared him for flight. Maybe they figured there wasn't time to sort out alternatives."

Cliff grumbled with dissatisfaction. "I know I said earlier Jeff's attitude was going to get him killed someday but I stand corrected. His attitude is going to get us **all** killed someday – and one that's coming sooner than we'd like."

Ginger's frown deepened. She didn't like Cliff's tone and while she was already well aware that Jeff's romantic interest lay elsewhere and she'd made her peace with it, there was always going to be a part of her that was stubbornly loyal to him. "As much as I agree it's risky, we have little choice. We can't wait for a replacement pilot nor do we have time to wait for Jeff to heal completely. If he can last long enough for us to form Voltron, it'll be better than nothing at all."

Cliff snorted. "If it were up to me, I'd put Hutch back in action before I would Jeff – I don't think he should be flying at all let alone in command. I'd even have Hawkins on board again, and then put Sven here in the command ship. His work so far has been impressive enough – I think he could handle it. We can play musical ships all day for that matter – anything would be better than letting all our lives rest in the hands of a man who just recently had the sense beat out of him. That ship of Jeff's is one of the most integral ones, in case you've forgotten."

Cliff brushed off Cric's attempt to stop the heated conversation and went on. "We can't just switch Jeff on auto pilot and take over the way we did for Hutch. You can't do that with a team leader's ship – it's limited. Yes, Voltron would be whole but he wouldn't be at full capacity if Jeff were to black out on us in battle – and on a mission like this one, that could be disaster. You weren't in that meeting, Ginger, and you didn't see how out of it he still is. So yes, I would prefer someone perhaps more inexperienced but **conscious **in the driver's seat, thank you. But then, my assessment isn't clouded by my being in love with him either."

Ginger gasped at the accusation while Sven shifted uncomfortably in his seat in the silence that ensued.

Ginger studied Cliff's face for a long time, trying to figure out why he seemed to have it so in for Jeff, and furthermore, why he had to go and make it personal. Finally, she pushed her plate away and shook her head. "Jeff's not the only one around here with an attitude problem." She had no idea what Cliff's real problem was, but she was sick of trying to figure him out.

Cliff leaned in and opened his mouth as if to speak, but this time Cric stopped him short by being more assertive. "I really don't think this is the time to be fighting among ourselves. We need to be a united front more than ever. We'll have to make the best of the orders we were given."

Cliff sat back and crossed his arms in front of his chest, but remained silent.

Cric regarded Sven with a sheepish expression. "Sorry, we're not normally quite like this."

Sven offered a slight smile of his own. "I understand. It's a lot of pressure to be under. We had our moments on the other Voltron Force."

Ginger didn't find any of the exchange comforting. In her opinion, stress was no reason to act like an ass, which was her assessment of Cliff's behavior. It was one thing to have concerns, but she got the sense there was some kind of grudge or resentment there that went beyond that. Now was the worst time to be petty about anything.

* * *

Twila sat with a satisfied grin on her face from the bridge of her command ship. She knew their pleas for peace were bogus when she saw the size of their fighter fleet. Hazar was a horrible imbecile for believing the Alliance was coming to save them. More accurately, Twila thought bitterly, coming to enslave them. And with that knowledge, she took great pleasure in answering the Alliance's commanding officer's message of peace with laser fire.

She did find it odd the Explorer wasn't among the first wave, so she and Throk decided to hold back the best of the defenses they had remaining, as a little present for the Explorer and Voltron.

To her delight, her fleet seemed to be able to handle this first wave of attackers well. And after hours of some of the fiercest fighting she'd ever been in, her grin was well earned. It widened as she scored a direct hit herself on the fleet's command ship. She watched with glee as it veered sharply and plummeted toward the surface of Drule. It blew into space dust before it even broke the atmosphere. Furthermore, no escape pods were detected exiting the doomed vessel. Twila's heart swelled with pride for making such a coveted kill – and such an unusually high-ranking Alliance commander, at that.

What few ships were left in the Alliance fleet scattered. The first battle was theirs! She called up Viceroy Throk on the ultrawave.

"Sir, I've downed the command ship in this wave," she announced while beaming from ear to ear. "How are things coming on your end?"

"Excellent, Twila. I must say your performance tonight has been the most impressive I have ever seen. I commend you," Throk replied, looking relieved that there was finally some good news.

His sincere tone made her heart sing for he spoke what she long waited to hear from someone on the Drule Council. She'd finally proved she was just as good or better than her male peers. It took years of tenacity and hard work but she'd finally proved herself. And unlike Dorma, she didn't have to sleep with a single soul or be born into her position to achieve it.

"We need a little more time down here," Throk continued. "Hazar and the rebel forces are really making things difficult."

Twila's attention was drawn to the radar, which showed another much larger incoming fleet or fleets. She split the ultrawave image and saw it was more ships from the Alliance and glared when she saw Voltron break from the pack to lead the way. "They're here, sir. The Voltron Force."

Throk looked shaken but for a moment, before his jaw set in solid determination once more. "We'll be ready."

"I'll buy you a little more time," Twila assured him. Her fleet, what was left of it, was already battle weary. But she had a pair of robeasts left for Voltron to play with and would use what she had left to give the rest of the fleet hell for as long as she could. True, in her heart she knew it was a suicide mission. She simply hoped Throk and the history books would not soon forget her bold sacrifice.

Throk nodded his approval before she cut the communication. "Forward," she ordered her crew as Voltron drew closer. "For the glory of the Empire!"

* * *

The first to clear of the asteroid belt that surrounded Drule, Jeff could see the planet looming ahead of them as he helped guide Voltron ahead. In between them and the planet, however, was a relatively small Drule fleet. With the information supplied to them by the few ships in Steele's fleet that remained, this was probably the same squad that snuffed out Commander Steele and this was what was left of them after the battle. It galled him to know they were mere minutes too late to save him. The thought made Jeff harden his resolve. He may be beaten, but he wasn't down and he planned to meet any resistance head on.

He turned Voltron toward the command ship of the Drule fleet, dodging its laser fire all the while, intent on mowing it down as his first order of business. They'd shown themselves a hostile force in the face of the Alliance's desire to help them, so he felt not even a pang of doubt or guilt. So far, his anger made it so he could ignore the ache in his head well enough to focus ahead. But then as they neared, not one but two robeasts were released from the ship's front compartment. Jeff quickly realized the command ship would have to wait.

Even with the blazing sword brought out as the first line of defense, two beasts were tough to deal with. He soon found Voltron making a dizzying plummet toward the surface of Drule below, both Robeasts handing on for the ride. Try as they might, the Voltron Force couldn't shake the beasts until well after they'd broke through Drule's atmosphere. Even so, they barely had enough time to right themselves, luckily sparing themselves the pain of plowing into the planet's barren and dusty surface.

Even in the blazing late afternoon sun, Jeff could see a fleet of Drule ships rising out of an opening in the planet's surface nearby where Voltron landed and he knew it was another wave of attack ships. _They're mad_, he thought. _They're going to destroy the very fleet that's come to evacuate them._

Aloud, he called the fleet's presence to the attention of his teammates.

"We've got bigger problems right now," Cric replied. "Those robeasts have also gotten their bearings – look out!"

Jeff blinked and saw robeasts closing in on both sides of Voltron. The machines were precise and fast, and he couldn't help Voltron avoid them both. The larger of the two tackled Voltron hard, slamming him onto the rocky earth beneath them. The impact was jarring, and Jeff faded out of consciousness for a moment.

"We've got to move, Jeff."

He heard the shouts of his teammates and strained his eyes to focus. His vision clearing, he could see the robeast was on top of them with the spikes on its armor coming dangerously close to piercing Voltron. Before they could work themselves loose of its grip, the beast shot some sort of blast into them. It sent a jolt through Voltron that short circuited the controls temporarily and gave its pilots and unpleasant shock.

It was much harder on Jeff than the others, and he struggled to keep his thoughts in order. He was vaguely aware of the frantic voices over the radio but he could scarcely make sense of them over the pounding of his own blood in his ears.

"Uh-oh, here comes more trouble," he heard Sven say. Jeff took note of the second robeast coming to join the fight.

"Blazing sword," Jeff muttered.

"No good," countered Cliff irritably. "One, we dropped that when this thing hit us and two, you can't sword fight when your opponent has you pinned down. Come on, Jeff, you wanted to be a hero. Get us out of this."

Jeff gritted his teeth and willed himself to get his mind clear. He worked to help Voltron maneuver a foot into the robeasts' gut and gave it a mighty shove upward. The move worked, allowing Voltron to go airborne again.

"Let's see how he likes some turnabout," Jeff growled before hitting the offending robeast with a dose of electro-thermal blast. The beast was damaged and stunned, but the victorious feeling didn't last long.

Robeast number two approached from behind Voltron and wrapped a length of chain around Voltron's waist. Another excruciating shock of current was sent through the chain and into Voltron, as the robeast whipped him around for good measure. After a dizzying ride, Voltron was finally released only to fall into a graceless heap onto the parched ground.

Jeff may have joined his teammates in crying out in shock and pain if he had any awareness. He sat slouched over and motionless in his seat, blissfully unaware of the impending doom about to befall them all.

* * *

Dorma paused as she followed Hazar down the darkened staircase deep below the Palace, and pressed her fingers to the earpiece in her ear.

After listening intensely for a moment, she reached out and grabbed Hazar's arm. "They're here," she whispered. "Voltron is up above."

Hazar nodded. "Let's hope they'll still have enough room to carry us all. And that Baki and the others have had success in calming the people and getting them organized."

Dorma looked grim. "Let's also hope Twila and Throk have expended their resources. If the same thing happens to this fleet that happened to the first, we're doomed."

Hazar turned and looked back down the darkened stairwell. "If Baki's information is right, you and I will soon put a stop to Throk's interference."

They'd gotten word that Throk was indeed hiding out and the hope was that they could close in on him before he could aid Twila any further.

* * *

The robeast had them pinned again and Jeff was still not responsive. Voltron wasn't entirely helpless, but things were made much more difficult with Jeff being out and Cric knew they couldn't hold out much longer waiting for him to come to. Especially now that an area of the robeasts' stomach opened to reveal a very menacing pointed, spinning apparatus that would bore a devastating hole in Voltron if they didn't do something fast.

"Disengage," Cliff urged, panic evident in his voice. And who could blame him? He could possibly take the fatal brunt of this attack. "C'mon guys, it's the only way – disengage!"

"That'll leave Jeff a sitting duck," countered Chip.

"So we all die together, is that your plan?" Cliff shot back.

Lisa also resisted the idea. "There's got to be something else we can do," she pleaded.

Sweat trickled down off Cric's brow. They'd tried to wrest themselves free and hit the robeast with whatever firepower they could muster – none of it worked. With Jeff out, Cric was in command and the decision was ultimately his. Cliff was right.

"Disengage," he said with some measure of regret, and Voltron separated into his 15 parts and scattered deftly avoiding imminent disaster.

The force of the separation did cause Jeff's unit to shoot somewhat clear of the scene as well, though he still didn't answer calls and remained grounded. They would have to regroup and do their best to protect him and simultaneously survive against the robeasts without Voltron.

To Cric's relief, part of Newley's fleet broke away from the fight above and came by to lend a hand. It bought them some time at the very least, although he had to wonder how much more the Drules had to throw at them and how much more they could take.

* * *

Jeff flinched, as something in his sub-conscious responded to his name. But as he moved, it was the sensation of an unusually cold crystal against the flesh of his chest that really coaxed him awake. Coming out of the mire of unconsciousness, he was greeted with Cric's frantic visage on his telescreen. It took him a moment to remember where he was and what he had been doing. He didn't remember Voltron disassembling and was shocked to find himself sitting alone out in the open and so vulnerable.

"I'm here," he said, grabbing his ship's controls with determination.

"Helluva time to take a nap," Cliff quipped. "But welcome back."

He took off just as another violent tremor shook the planet, the ground he had been resting on opening up into a jagged gash. One of the robeasts wasn't so lucky and fell into the dark crevasse, although Jeff wouldn't count it out just yet. For now, he was simply glad it wasn't him taking the fall.

It was the perfect opportunity to try Voltron again and try to vanquish the second robeast while they had the chance. Jeff gave the order, all the while trying to ignore just how ill he felt.

* * *

Deep within the catacombs below the Palace, Throk was holed up watching the battle within a hidden room, decked out with surprisingly modern gadgetry. It was made for just such an occasion. Throk simply hoped Hazar would be too preoccupied with the chaos above to try to find him there. The exhilaration he'd felt earlier was gone following the launch of the last fleet. He could see more would have to be done to deal with Voltron after watching the wretched robot destroy one of the robeasts Twila had given him to play with. Luckily, the last quake didn't bring the whole city down on top of him. There was still time for him to act.

Perspiration dotted his brow, for even he hoped it wouldn't come to this.

"Twila," he said as her image flickered onto the screen before him. "It's time."

The image was grainy and he could tell the battle she was locked in was a mighty one.

She nodded. "I regret we couldn't hold them back but at least now, if we must go we can go with our pride. And take them with us."

The screen went dark and Throk took a moment to reflect. She knew full well she'd be caught in the blast range, but then so would the Explorer and its fleets – and Voltron as well. If ever there was a sacrifice worth making, this was it. The Drules were too proud to be taken over and enslaved, and most of all not at the hands of the Alliance.

Over my dead body will that ever happen, he thought with firm resolve.

Even though this was the clear directive, it galled Throk that he hesitated, for it meant he too would be lost. That last pang of self-preservation he managed to quell long enough to begin. Once he punched in a sequence on the numbered control panel on the console before him, a catastrophic chain reaction would happen not unlike what had happened on Rilo, except faster and more violently given the already unstable planet. But when he thought of life under Alliance rule, the prospect scared him more. It was the only way.

Throk pressed the first number and closed his eyes. He drew a deep breath and pressed the second number in the sequence. It wouldn't be long now.

He froze, however, when felt the barrel of a pistol against the back of his head. But then, he quickly reasoned, what did it matter?

Ignoring Hazar's warning to stop what he was doing, he quickly put in more numbers. But to his dismay, he couldn't complete the sequence for Hazar blasted the panel – and his hand – right along with it.

Throk cried out and fell from his chair, writhing in pain. His right hand was seriously seared, the burning under his glove agonizing. Through it all, he thought to reach for his side arm with his good hand but was thwarted by Dorma. She placed a heeled boot on his chest after kicking his pistol out of his reach.

"Get up," she ordered after relinquishing her weight from his chest.

He fumbled to his feet, incensed that they found him – and before he could finish what he'd wanted to do. Their capacity to undermine the Empire astounded him.

"Traitors," he hissed at the siblings, looking to each with much contempt. "You'll pay for what you've done when--"

"Shut up," Dorma spat back, silencing his threat. "You should be more worried about what's going to happen tonight."

Throk chuckled in spite of himself. He'd love nothing more than to backhand the woman. "Why don't you just shoot me, Hazar. You know you want to."

"No," Hazar replied. "I want you to live to regret what your leadership has done to our people, and to see for yourself that you've got it all wrong about the Alliance."

Dorma nodded. "You'll be put on a prison transport along with everyone else on the Council we've rounded up to be tried for war crimes once we get settled on a new world."

Throk laughed as though he'd heard the best punch line of his life. "You're both delusional. When we're all enslaved building up the planets in this solar system for the Alliance, I'll remind you of that."

"Come on," Dorma said to Hazar, ignoring Throk's claim completely. "Let's get this traitor secured and see how Baki and his crew are doing with preparing the people for the rescue."

Throk bristled at being called the traitor. He wasn't the one that gave the enemy a free pass to come take over, dire circumstances or not. If anything, the fact that they were desperate and vulnerable made the transgression _worse_. But he would go quietly. For now.

* * *

The robeast disposed of, and with Newley's crew keeping any stray fighters at bay, Jeff saw a chance to go below the surface of the planet – which is where Hazar had told them they would needed to go – and took it. As Voltron flew below and neared the city, Jeff was taken aback by what it was like down there, so unlike what he would imagine. It was modern and sleek, showing the innovation of a people with a will to survive. It was such a stark contrast from the dusty ruins of the landscape above, although Jeff imaged that at one time Drule might well have been a sight to see on the surface, too. He had to wonder why they hadn't used their innovation and intelligence to simply abandon the world all together long before it came to this.

But all that was academic now, and he could see the strain the tremors had put on the architecture. A few more of those, and no structure would be safe. It would be up to the Voltron Force to make the first overtures of peace among the Drule here, and they sat down in the street in the middle of the city. Jeff scanned the area and had his guard up – not a soul seemed to be around.

Then Cric pointed his attention to something coming over a rise in the road ahead. Jeff tensed, not knowing what to expect until he realized it was a group of ordinary Drules carrying white flags of surrender.

"Well, let's disassemble and go down there," Jeff decided.

Cliff resisted. "You mean, get outside our ships? What if it's a trap? We've been duped by the Drule before, and that wasn't a welcome committee we just fought our way through."

Jeff studied the crowd as they neared, noting many looked warn, tired and scared. He supposed Voltron's presence wasn't comforting for them, as much as they were likely taught to fear it. Breaking apart and letting them see the people inside would be a good way to show their trust and goodwill.

"I agree with Jeff," Cric finally weighed in. "Their planet is definitely in ruin and they're in need of help. Those aren't soldiers down there, but ordinary men, women and children. But most of all, I feel strongly we can trust Hazar."

"Hawkins just confirmed," added Ginger, "that Hazar has reported the city secure and Throk has been taken into custody. With Twila gone, that's the last of the remaining rogue Drules on the planet."

That seemed good enough for Cliff.

Almost as soon as they climbed out of their vessels, an older man beckoned for the team leaders to follow him. Though his guard was still up, Jeff followed the man inside a building down the street a bit. When they crossed the threshold they were met by a much older Drule.

"Thank you, Baki," the older man said to their escort. He then turned his attention to the team leaders. "Welcome. I am Chancellor Mozak."

The team leaders glanced at each other, unsure of what Drule protocol was for meeting for the first time. Should they bow? Shake hands? Nobody seemed to know.

Mozak didn't seem to mind either way. "Hazar will be here shortly to speak with you. I cannot thank you enough for coming here."

"Any idea how much time we have left?" Cliff asked, getting straight to the point.

"Hours – at best."

Cric grew grim. "We lost many ships fighting our way down here, but we're hoping we've still got enough room for everyone."

Mozak nodded appreciatively. "We'll do what we can. We tried to stop Throk and Twila but it wasn't easy. I know it cost you much and I deeply apologize."

Mozak then excused himself, explaining he would go see what was keeping Hazar. An awkward silence ensued as they waited on Hazar, and Jeff saw fit to seat himself on a nearby bench. He was getting lightheaded again, and was content to sit with his elbows on his knees so that his hands could support his head.

"You alright Jeff?" Cric asked quietly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just gotta rest."

"Hmmm, hydroponics," Cric mused, to which Jeff looked up to see him indicating a wall lined with what looked like aquariums. But these had fruits and vegetables growing inside them. "Just like home."

Jeff resumed resting his aching head before he continued. "I thought your people came up with that."

"We did. We also tried to help the Drules once by sharing this method of harvesting with them…and were rewarded with slavery. A lot of my people have served in the Alliance forces to ensure that never happens to us again."

"One good thing about today is, it's over no matter what."

Cric looked thoughtful. "It'll be a mix of joy and sorrows. Take it from someone who lost a world, that's never easy. But if we make peace with the Drules, there'll be peace in this part of the galaxy for the first time in ages."

"It's a wonderful thought."

Cric sat beside Jeff, regarding him with due concern. "I'm sorry I left you back there out in the open. But—"

Jeff lifted his head and waved off the explanation. "Don't apologize. I understand. And for what it's worth, Cliff was right."

This got the Land Team Leader's attention. "Oh?"

Before Jeff could elaborate, Hazar made his appearance, trailed by Dorma. The team leaders stood to attention. This would be their first time meeting in person. Jeff felt a little nervous, but he stepped out ahead of his teammates to take Hazar's outstretched hand to give it a firm shake.

After the introductions, the group got to the business at hand. As they talked, Jeff also sensed how genuine Hazar was and so became more at ease. Although, Jeff was becoming certain the fighting was over, he wondered if the hardest part didn't still lie ahead of them.

* * *

Chaotic hours passed as the panicked masses were organized and boarded onto ships, their hysteria growing with each increasingly violent tremor. Attempting to separate the men from the women and children proved to be a true nightmare, for it inspired an impulse from the men to panic and nearly stampede toward the waiting ships. But the crews of the Alliance, along with Hazar's reassuring guidance, averted disaster and the crowds settled down. It was close, but they'd got the Drule population all aboard. Liftoff couldn't have come a moment longer with the surface of the planet starting to crumble just as the fleets began to clear it.

Hawkins sat with Hazar on the bridge of the Explorer, serving out some tense and nerve wracking moments during their departure. They left Drule's atmosphere with the planet already a fiery ball below them, and Hawkins was relatively sure they would make it clear in one piece. With any luck, Newley wasn't far behind. There was some delay and his vessel was lagging, Hawkins knew, but they were still in communication. It seemed some falling debris caught Newley's ship before exiting the underground but his initial reports indicated the damage wouldn't prevent them from clearing the planet. Hazar and Hawkins both shared a moment of relief, for the vessel carried many citizens of Drule.

That relief was short-lived when Captain Newley's face – grainy and flickering in and out of focus – came over the Explorer's ultrawave. Even with the shaky audio, Hawkins could read on the man's face the news wasn't going to be good. What could have gone wrong now, he could only guess. He supposed the signal to the ultrawave was gaining interference thanks to Newley's vessel being still so near the dying planet.

"I'm sorry." Those were the first words Hawkins could make out of the communication. "Jets…damaged…no speed…won't clear atmosphere…can't make it."

Hawkins hung his head for a short moment, his shoulders going lax. He desperately searched his mind for something they could do even as the glow of the dying planet Drule increasingly lit up the Explorer bridge, harkening that the inevitable had arrived. But it was all he could do to save the lives aboard the Explorer to keep the jets going at full speed. Turning back now would not be an option, and he suspected Newley knew this as well. The call, then, was to say goodbye - not to get help.

Hawkins gritted his teeth and looked up and met Newley's eyes one last time. He wouldn't have thought less of the man if he'd looked frightened, but instead Hawkins saw what he thought was a calm acceptance of his fate reflected in Newley's eyes, and not a hint of regret. The image on the ultrawave went clear for a moment as Newley gave a crisp salute.

"It's been a pleasure to serve with you," Newley said clearly as everyone on the bridge drew silent and somber.

Hawkins jaw worked as if he were to reply, but instead, he simply returned the salute, once again standing rigid and tall before the communication flickered to blackness. He remained in that stance for a long moment afterward, until Drule became such a fiery mass it was too bright not to have to look away. Silence fell heavy on the bridge in that time of shocking loss.

Hawkins turned, catching Hazar's eye, and realized in that moment just how much they had in common. There were two men who had fought hard for a cause, and lost much along the way. Men who had suffered betrayals, triumphed over lies, endured the loss of friends, and stood up to staggering odds. They were both part of some beaten generation. Now they stood at the threshold of forging something new and enduring out of the ashes of it all.

* * *

When you cast your eyes upon the skylines  
Of this once proud nation  
Can you sense the fear and the hatred  
Growing in the hearts of its population

And our youth, oh youth, are being seduced  
By the greedy hands of politics and half truths

The beaten generation, the beaten generation  
Reared on a diet of prejudice and mis-information  
The beaten generation, the beaten generation  
Open your eyes, open your imagination

We're being sedated by the gasoline fumes  
And hypnotised by the satellites  
Into believing what is good and what is right

You may be worshipping the temples of mammon  
Or lost in the prisons of religion  
But can you still walk back to happiness  
When you've nowhere left to run?

And if they send in the special police  
To deliver us from liberty and keep us from peace

Then won't the words sit ill upon their tongues  
When they tell us justice is being done  
And that freedom lives in the barrel of a warm gun

The beaten generation, the beaten generation  
Reared on a diet of prejudice and mis-information  
The beaten generation, the beaten generation  
Open your eyes, open your imagination

--The Beaten Generation, The The


	13. Winning Days: Epilogue

Winning Days

Epilogue

By Purrsia Kat

A/N: This part ends the story arc for Winning Days. However, there is going to be a sequel so as they say…keep your fork, there's pie ;)

For the time being, Outpost 9 was utilized as both the surviving Drules' and Rilons' temporary home. In the weeks since the catastrophe on Drule, the survivors and rescuers alike had been busy trying to set up adequate shelters and keep supplies coming in for such an influx of people. It hadn't always been easy, especially with local diplomatic relations so slow to mend, but most were simply grateful to have their lives to complain too much. The plan was to find larger, more suitable worlds for the refugees, but until then all were making due with what they had on such short notice.

One refugee in particular couldn't let anything temper her mood. Keira had not only been reunited with her people, but luck had it that her parents were among those survivors.

"At least there's a happy ending," Jeff mused as he watched Keira escort her parents through the crowded lounge inside the Explorer. The ship drifted once again on a lake, giving everyone a front row seat to an impressive array of aquatic life. During a brief break from the day's work, everyone seemed to be migrating to the lounge. But even amid the chaos, Jeff felt a real sense of peace. "I'm glad it turned out for her," he added, and meant it. As upset as he had been with Keira in the past, he held no lasting grudge against her and he supposed, she was only human.

Lisa placed her hand on top of Jeff's and gave it a squeeze. "That's not all. Look, there's Hutch."

Jeff's eyes followed the path Lisa pointed out, and indeed Hutch was there, looking healthy as ever. He was standing near the bar talking to Sven. "How much do you want to bet Hutch is trying to one-up Sven with harrowing space stories?"

Lisa giggled at the notion just as Chip plopped down on the bench seat across from them. He dropped a box full of stuff on the table in front of him with a few stray pieces of paper floating out with the impact.

"I've been looking for you guys," the little guy said, taking a moment to adjust his glasses which had turned askew on his face during the effort he exerted carrying a box of that size. "Have you seen Sven?"

Lisa pointed him out while Jeff craned to see what as in the box.

"Moving out?" Jeff half-joked. "What is all that stuff?"

"It's for Pidge, my brother," Chip explained. "I was hoping to catch Sven and give it to him before he leaves tonight, so he can deliver it for me."

"Better tell him to add an extra gas tank – he'll need it with the added weight."

Lisa laughed at the jest, while Chip simply stuck his tongue out at Jeff before heading over to Sven.

Jeff scanned the room and caught sight of Sandu sitting by himself, and frowned. "Sandu ever find anyone he knows among the refugees?"

Lisa sobered quickly and shook her head. "Not that I know of. But, we're still discovering planets and outposts where the Drules sent away some of their more vocally opposed citizens, so there's still some hope to find more survivors. Shannon says Sandu's pretty worried. If his family is still in one of those prisons, it's not going to be a pleasant piece of news. The conditions in some of them---"

Lisa trailed off and shuddered for effect.

"Can't blame him. I bet he's got to wonder if anyone he knew could have been aboard Newley's ship, too. We still haven't accounted for who might have been aboard because we just didn't have time to take a census beforehand. It could turn out he'll never know for sure what happened to them."

Lisa nodded. "It's sad."

Jeff's thoughts turned to those that fell in the last big battles, but most of all, he thought of Newley. He, too, had witnessed the man's last transmissions from his own ship, and it still haunted Jeff. He knew it affected nobody as badly as the Commander. Newley was his right hand and it was apparent by Hawkins' demeanor in the time since that it wasn't easy for him. Jeff knew Newley was one he would never forget.

Lisa must have been worried by the shift in Jeff's mood because when he looked over at her, her expression was awash in concern.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I was just thinking about Captain Newley."

Concern was replaced by somber understanding. "He will be deeply missed. I still can't believe we lost him like that. After everything we'd been through together…"

In the ensuing silence, Jeff fidgeted with the chain to the moonstone, which hung around his neck. In fact, he hadn't taken it off since the exodus from Drule.

"Oh, you're still wearing it," Lisa took note.

Jeff pulled on the chain until the gem popped out from under his shirt. "Yeah. I still don't know if I believe in all the luck stuff, but I like it," he admitted.

"Keep it then," Lisa replied. "For love. Never mind what Cliff says about it either – he's just jealous."

He smiled a little, looking down at the stone, and couldn't help but think he was the luckiest guy after all.

* * *

That night, Cric was exhausted from another day of hard work. It was with great relief he sought out his bunk inside the Explorer, looking forward to some well-earned sleep. He had no reason to expect anything but restful slumber for he hadn't any feelings, visions, or vivid dreams since the collapse of Drule. He dared hope that with the close of that chapter of their struggle, he'd be spared any further cryptic notions.

All that was about to change. Hours later he awoke with a start, sweat matting his hair onto his forehead. The room was dark and quiet, his bunkmates blissfully unaware of the terror he saw in his mind's eye.

He remembered much. He remembered being trapped in the strange, desolate land where the monolith of a gnarled hand reached up through the foggy sky. The smell of decay hung thick in the air as he stumbled over human skulls to get away from an enemy unseen. His teammates were long gone, and he was alone, afraid and helpless. And then he fell endlessly, never reaching an impact, the whole while feeling as though he could not breathe. Drowning, yet with no water to be seen.

It seemed so real he sat there gasping for air. Once again he was overcome with the sense that time was fast running out. A sense that this fog shrouded nightmare would soon manifest into a horrible reality. Still, he had no idea what he could do about it. He never saw faces or heard names in the dream, nor did he recognize the creepy silhouette that reminded him of some sort of mangled claw. Cric squeezed his eyes shut and cursed this gift that seemed so obtuse and useless to him at most times. It seemed so warm to him in the room, he felt as though he couldn't breathe for real. So, tossing soaked sheets aside, he sought the upper deck and the comfort of the open, cool night air.

* * *

While Cric grappled with his nightmares, Throk was treated to a late night visit. The light flicked on in his holding cell within Outpost 9's base, putting a harsh end to Throk's slumber, as well as that of his cellmate, fellow Council member Durak.

Raising his arm to shield his eyes from the offensive light, Throk squinted up into the visage of Hazar. Seeing the man made him both angry and ill. Throk sat up and swung his legs around so that they hung off the side of the bunk he'd been sleeping on and set scornful eyes upon Hazar.

"What do you want? To pour salt in my wounds?" Throk barked.

Hazar was quiet a moment before he spoke. "I thought you might like to know your trial starts tomorrow."

Throk scoffed, and he could hear Durak snort and roll over on the bunk above. "I bet you have front row seats to that circus."

"I won't be there."

Throk eyed Hazar suspiciously. "Oh? Too busy with your coronation?"

Hazar shook his head. "The people will elect their leader, and it will be the people that judge you tomorrow. Not me."

Throk rolled his eyes. "How very noble."

He had little doubt the Alliance would have their noses stuck in, if not playing puppeteer to the whole charade, and he was not surprised that Hazar was blind to their manipulations. If Throk thought he could get away with it, he'd leap up and try to choke the life out of Hazar such was the contempt that burned in his heart. Everything about Hazar irritated Throk to the very core and he vowed that somehow, someday Hazar would pay for all he'd done.

"You're lucky," Hazar said coolly as he turned to go. "I'm sure the people will be far more kind to you than I would have. Either way, your winning days are over."

_Don't do me any favors_, Throk thought glaring at Hazar's back as the man disappeared through the cell door. The heavy door shut, and the sound of the lock's tumblers falling into place echoed in the small chamber as if to taunt Throk.

A faint smile formed on his lips as he thought of something he was sure Hazar and his band of traitors overlooked. And that was the fact that Keezor was not accounted for. Not because he'd met some horrible fate on Drule, but because he'd been sent out on some diplomatic matter before things really went sour and had not returned by the time Drule met its end. In the commotion of those last days of the old Empire, he doubted anyone noticed and just assumed Keezor was among the casualties.

No, he didn't expect Keezor to free them all and restore the Empire to its former glory. But he knew there was no home planet for Keezor to return to and he had a hunch where his comrade might turn given the Alliance was swarming this part of the galaxy – and that was to Doom. Yes, word would have probably reached that part of the Empire eventually, but now there as a likely chance of news getting there much sooner than it otherwise would. Zarkon, he didn't figure, would let this go unchallenged. Not Hazar's disloyalty or the Alliance's invasion. In fact, he was sure Zarkon would have little choice but to act, or risk his hold in the Denubian realm losing ground. Throk knew there was another Voltron that Zarkon had to deal with, so the thought of two joining forces on him – which was totally possible now that Hazar's spineless brigade was clearing the way for the Vehicle Team to have little else to do – would likely force the King to act.

Throk leaned back on the bunk and chuckled softly to himself. He would bide his time and wait for the real show to begin. The winning days, he mused, have just begun.

* * *

The winning days are gone  
Because I know just where I'm seeing  
Was given eyes I know  
I can hear  
Cause underneath there's gold  
I need to get around to find it  
And when I want to go  
I can dream  
I've been trying  
All my time

I'm just seeing it rise  
Cause it could be the land that's over me  
So I just wanna let it breathe for now

Get up and go outside  
It can help your mind too  
Get up don't hide away

Cause I know where there's gold  
I didn't know when I was flying  
I'm sinking like a stone  
I can't breathe  
I've been trying...

--Winning Days, The Vines


End file.
